


The Minor Fall

by ravenlowe



Series: Some Devil [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, D/s, F/M, Language, M/M, Multi, Non-Explicit, crowley big bang 2013, dubcon, spoilers through season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenlowe/pseuds/ravenlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a question, "Was it worth it?"</p>
<p>Samael never had much use for humans, until he finally met one. Never could he have imagined that the path he started down by falling in love would lead him to Hell and into the den of an angry creature with a plan.</p>
<p>In present time, we find the demons of Hell preparing to exit through the Gate once Azazel's chosen one has opened it. Crowley has a few preparations of his own to make however, and one of them includes talking one John Winchester down off the rack. If he decides to keep the man as a pet afterwards, well? Who's going to complain? He's got some time to kill before the apocalypse and a certain creature's plans come due. The human might just be interesting enough to keep him out of trouble. For a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minor Fall

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Unsafe dub-con D/s relationship (non-explicit), religious context, adult themes, Crowley's mouth, Spoilers up to season 5  
>  **Notes:** This series takes the Angel!Crowley AU and runs a marathon with it. I almost bit off more than I could chew, but somehow I made it this far. Now to crank out the rest of the trilogy. Thank you[ crowley_bigbang](http://crowley-bigbang.livejournal.com/) for hosting the event, [ninurta](http://ninurta.livejournal.com) for the awesome art, and [ askpapawinchester ](http://askpapawinchester.tumblr.com) for the beta, the help, the encouragement, for being the John to my Crowley, and for everything. Without all of the above I'd have trashed the thing two months ago. Hell, without askpapawinchester I never would have started writing Crowley to begin with.  
>  **Art:** [ninurta](http://ninurta.livejournal.com) Check out the [ Masterpost Here](http://ninurta.livejournal.com/877839.html)

 

 

 

**How it ends.**

 

It was a fairly normal afternoon. Well, at least it was to most of the human race. Nearly every other form of creature, supernatural or not, on the planet could feel the mounting tension that was centered in one particular spot. Humans had never been all that bright. On this not so normal afternoon two figures sat alone in a graveyard in Kansas. They were overdressed for their surroundings and even though it wasn't quite high-noon yet, the suited men had decided to share some lunch, the fast food bag resting between them on the dilapidated headstone on which they sat. The air was heavy in the cemetery, though neither man appeared particularly effected by it. Something big was about to happen; something that could very well change the face of the world. These two men would not be part of that. They were merely present as silent observers. Well, perhaps not so silent.

The grave, stately man--who was not a man at all, but instead an ancient being known simply as Death-- turned to his shorter, slightly balding companion--who wasn't really a man either--after finishing his cheeseburger.

“Millions of years of planning finally coming to fruition, and the end result is still uncertain. How did I ever believe that you were up to this task?”

“What can I say?” the smaller not-man--whose current classification was still a bit murky, though to anyone who asked, his name was Crowley, King of the Crossroads--shrugged. “Free will's a bitch. The end result will go on as planned, though. You can bet on it.”

“Oh?” Death questioned, surprised at his companion's certainty. “How do you know?”

Crowley grinned and popped a french fry into his mouth. “I'd say that I had faith, but you'd know I was lying.”

Indeed, Death seemed unimpressed with his companion's answer and thoughtfully chewed on a fry of his own. “So then, soon to be King of Hell, has all of this made you happy? Has it brought you the peace you so desperately wanted when you approached my cage all those years ago?”

“No,” the shorter man replied simply, “but what comes next will be better than before.”

“Still so sure. I wonder what it is that you know which I do not?”

Crowley's grin widened. “You learn a lot of things, being the King of the Crossroads.” And through living as long as the demon had, he thought, though neither of them needed any reminder about their respective ages. “Well, what about you then? You're about to be free from Lucifer's binding. Does it make you happy? Has it brought you the peace you so so desperately wanted when I approached your cage all those years ago?”

Sarcastic to the core, Crowley turned the question back onto Death.

“No,” Death replied, his tone tinged with just the slightest bit of humor. “But what comes next will be better than before.”

Crowley opened his mouth to deliver what would have been a glorious rebuttal, but the fluttering sound of wings cut him off before he even began. The two main players had arrived . Michael and Lucifer faced each other for the first time since The Caging, unaware of their audience. Together, unseen, Crowley and Death watched on, the graveyard silent aside from the sound of the late-fall breeze rustling the branches of the already nearly leafless trees.

Crowley licked his lips, watching the encounter play out from the safety of his hiding-in-plain-sightspot with interest. The show must go on.

 

 

 

 

**How it Began.**

 

“Samael, Raziel, come forward. I have a task for you.”

God's voice filled the room as it always had. Ever obedient, Samael put what he was doing aside and approached his father's chair along with his brother. Their new, more human appearances were still cumbersome and ungainly but the sight of them pleased their father, bringing a smile to his otherwise drawn face. Michael and Lucifer must have been fighting again, to cause the lines of tension on their lord's forehead.

The two angels sat themselves at their creator's knee; archangel on one side and cherub on the other, and took joy at being in his presence, no matter the reason they had been summoned. Father blessed them both with a kiss on the forehead before telling them of his task.

“I am sorry to burden the both of you so, but there are no two others that I would trust with this. I am greatly saddened by the woman that I have made. Lilith, I have called her. She will not compromise and she leaves me no choice but to remove her from the garden.”

Samael carefully kept his face blank to conceal his surprise. Father loved his pair of humans above all else. To hear he was punishing one was not something the angel had expected to hear. Still, he could not muster much of anything other than mild annoyance for the creature. Though she faced banishment and their father's wrath, she still had his father's favor because of the very nature of what she was.

“I would have you escort her to the garden's edge. She shall face the outside world alone, and perhaps with time, come to repent for her crimes.”

“We shall do as you have asked,” Raziel answered for the both of them, not letting the archangel speak for himself. The secret-keeper had always been pushy.

Samael nodded his agreement nonetheless. He wasn't willing to start an argument right at Father's knee, but once they were in the garden there would be nothing to stop him from putting the lesser angel in his place. Samael was not Jophiel. He had his own voice, even if he chose against using it for the moment.

They were each blessed with another kiss and bade to stand. Samael lumbered to his feet, a feat he felt he would never get used to; the human form was not suitable for the six wings that adorned his body. The human bodies were not something father had actually required of them. They'd been given the alternate bodies after the creation of the humans, for the purpose of interacting with the creatures that God had formed from the dust of the Earth. Lucifer--and others that felt the way he did about the human--had yet to use them, but for Samael, seeing the small smile on Father's face when he was approached by a more human looking angel was reason enough to remain in the awkward form.

The Lord smiled up at him as if he knew the angel's thoughts, and it was very possible that he did. The Creator always had a way of knowing exactly what Samael was thinking at any given time.

“Go forth with my blessings, and do as I bid of you.”

Samael and Raziel moved as one and left the grand hall before heading directly to Earth. Samael savored the admittedly short flight. The human form may not have been practical for walking but for flying, he had to admit that he preferred it to his former incarnation. He did however, miss his head of a lion , the short mess of brown-black hair that covered his very human head now just could not compare.

The pair landed together in a small clearing mere seconds apart in a flutter of wings and clanking of armor. There was no question that Samael liked the Garden. Heaven was orderly while the Garden was a wild thing and oh, so full of color. If only it were not for the creatures Father had created to inhabit it. The archangel bent to get a closer look at a nearby flower, ignoring the impatient sound that his companion made. The cherubim would learn his place eventually, and he was lucky Samael had not given him a tongue lashing for his infraction earlier.

“Samael,” Raziel protested, clearly wanting to get the duty over with so that he could get back to his writing. “We were assigned a task.”

“Do not think to order me, Raziel. Besides, I'm sure Father won't begrudge us a moment to enjoy his creations,” the darker angel growled in return.

Samael had a low tolerance for his lesser brothers on a good day, and this was not a good day. The sleight, blond angel was visibly cowed, though the archangel knew the peace would not last long. It never had. He tarried with the flower for longer than he would have normally, simply to make his point, before standing and shooting his brother a long-suffering glance.

“All right then, the clearing is not far from here. Let us go do the task to which we were assigned, so that you may return to whatever boring thing you were doing before we left.”

Raziel huffed as he led the way down the path. “Chronicling the words of Our Father is not boring! Who knows what wisdom I am missing while we are trekking through the mud like the humans!”

“I'm sure one of the others could tell you all about it.”

The angels paused before entering the clearing that the humans were known to inhabit. The sound of raised voices could be heard from behind the brush--the man and woman clearly arguing--though about what, Samael was unsure. The heavenly creatures fell silent and crowded close to the underbrush, so that they could listen.

“I have told you before, Adam, I will not lie beneath you! What is it that makes me the lesser being? Why should I be subservient to you? Were we not made the same, and for the same purpose?

“Our Lord created you for me; of me! And it is his will that you bend before me,” the male voice protested.

Samael edged forward to look through the brush, once again waving off Raziel's impatient noises. The man stood not far from where the pair were hidden, while the woman was a few paces off but stalking toward him, nearly vibrating with her rage.

“Samael, we should--”

“Shh, you idiot. She is speaking again!” Truthfully Samael was less concerned with what the woman was saying now that he could see her.

What a glorious creature she was! Unlike his older brothers--who often accompanied their father on his visits to the garden--this was the first time Samael laid eyes on the humans. He had begun to see why their father preferred that his brothers use similar forms. The man was unremarkable in comparison to Samael's angelic brothers, but the female was a sight to behold; only made more beautiful in her anger. Samael had never witnessed such emotion. It was stunning.

“-- well then damn you and damn your Lord!”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Raziel's voice boomed, drowning out all other sound in the clearing, and causing the nearby animals to flee.

The younger angel pushed through the brush, practically blazing with his anger at the sleight to their father. Samael's face was stern as he followed, cutting afar more imposing figure between the two of them, even with his lack of visible, righteous anger. Not that he wasn't angry. The woman may have been beautiful, but the archangel would not allow such blasphemy against their father, any more than the younger angel would. He was simply better at hiding it.

Whatever argument the two humans were having, it was completely forgotten in the face of two furious angels pushing their way into the clearing. The humans immediately knelt down, shielding their eyes from the radiance of Raziel's wrath. Samael stepped around his brother, wings spread wide to both shield the humans from the blinding light and cut the archangel as the more imposing figure. He stepped forward, moving as if he'd been in the human form his entire existence, and tucked a finger beneath the woman's chin, forcing her green eyes to meet his blue.

“Hold your tongue,” Samael ordered sharply, “and take your feet, Lilith. By order of our Father, the Lord Almighty, you have been banished from this Garden. You will follow me to the border, while Raziel shall stay here with Adam.”

The sudden absence of light filtering through his wings told Samael that Raziel was likely wearing the same expression that the human man bore before him. The man appeared to be somewhere between protest and reverence as he stared as the spot where Samael's fingers touched Lilith's skin. The woman was almost pleasantly cool to his own warmth, which was made worse by the cloying heat of the garden. A cough brought his attention back from her eyes so that he may peer between his wings at the cause.

“Samael, Father said that--”

“He said we were both to come to the Garden. Nothing more. Stay with the man, brother. It would not do to have him follow us in some misguided attempt to retrieve his banished bride. Look at him, Raziel, and tell me he would not attempt it.” Samael turned back to the humans, allowing his wings to fold neatly at his back. Lilith--still kneeling--stared up at him with nearly vacant eyes.

The archangel rolled his own and growled, “Woman, I bade you to stand, now do so. We should be off, lest you wish to be caught in the wilds at night without shelter. Say your goodbyes.”

“Fine. I will stay, but do not doubt father will hear of this, Samael.” Raziel gave in as Lilith's eyes suddenly hardened and she gained her feet,speaking over the younger angel.

“I will say no goodbyes and my leaving will only be a blessing! I have no need of this man or this garden. If I am to be banished, then I will willingly go!”

Samael rolled his eyes at the both of them as he let Lilith's chin go and took a step back. Of course Raziel would be loudly voicing his displeasure when they returned, for all the good it would do. Samael, though less vocal, was the ranking angel on their little expedition and he was sure Father would merely tell the younger that Samael's orders were to be followed.

“Very well, that's settled, then. Come along Lilith. Enjoy yourself, _Keeper of Secrets._ ”

“But wait! I--,”

Adam found his tongue, though Samael ignored the protest, and began to push his way back through the foliage, the woman right on his heels and just as eager to leave as he was. For a few paces, he could still hear the man calling out and Raziel offering awkward reassurances in return, but it was not long before all that remained were the sounds of their footsteps and of the Garden itself.

Though the path was narrow, Lilith walked at Samael's side instead of behind him, as she angrily stomped along. Samael thought it must be exhausting, being so consistently angry. She would injure herself if she kept it up for too long. After a few more moments of tense silence, the angel couldn't help but point it out in a wry tone.

“You know, by leaving without issue, you are following Father's orders just as assuredly as you would have if you'd submitted to the man.”

Lilith stopped short, stumbling as Samael's armored shoulder hit her own. He hadn't known it was possible for her to look angrier. The angel smiled innocently and shrugged.

“'Tis the truth. Now, keep walking, if you would please. We still have quite a distance to cover and soon there will be no path to follow. We will have to make our own.”

“You're not like the other angels that have visited the Garden,” the woman drawled, her tone impressively close to Samael's. She caught back up with him after several overly-large strides and looked up at him curiously. “You're more human, for one thing.”

“I'll try not to be insulted by that,” Samael growled in return. “Should you meet any more of my brothers or sisters, you'll find that we're all different. I wouldn't count on you meeting more, however. Not in the wilds. Though Father did mention that if you were to repent for your crimes, you would be forgiven and allowed to return ..”

The human again stopped walking and Samael wondered if he were going to have to drag her from the garden after all. “Crimes! Repent?” She practically howled her outrage, glaring at the archangel. “And what is so wrong with being human?”

_You're naked and don't even know it,_ was on the tip of Samael's tongue, but he knew better. Father had left his new favorites helpless and unclothed for a reason, though the angel wasn't privy to it. They maynot have been watched at the moment, but the Lord had his ways of knowing everything.

“You're human. It's enough. And do not speak of my Father's mercy in such a way. He could have sent my brother and I here to kill you instead.”

“Perhaps he should have, for I will never repent for not submitting to that...that..mud-monkey's every whim!” Lilith huffed in a grand gesture that shook her whole body.

“Is that what you're being banished for? For not obeying the man?”

They began walking again, Lilith slightly ahead this time while Samael lagged behind, as he contemplated this confirmation. Banishment for disobedience. The thought seemed to dig at him, though the angel could not place why the idea would haunt him so. It was as he had said, after all, the woman was lucky she was not being killed for her offense.

“You did not know? You simply came here without question to throw me to whatever lies beyond, because your father ordered it?”

“Yes. Some of us were not given free will,” Samael drawled, as if the answer should be obvious.

Lilith turned her head to scowl at him. “What is free will worth if you are punished the moment you exercise it?”

The archangel found that he had nothing to say to that. There was nothing he _could_ say, for to speak would be to doubt his Father, and _that_ he would never do. Instead, he again took the lead. “We are almost there. Less talk.”

The woman was grinning triumphantly up at him as he passed her. Samael did his best to ignore it and to quiet the odd thoughts that her words had caused. The silence only lasted long enough for the angel to push through the next set of thick brambles and hold them aside so that Lilith could follow.

“Samael. That is what the other angel called you, is it not?”

Still angered by her verbal hit, he merely nodded in return before going back to work. The overgrowth in their path only thickened the closer they got to the edge of the Garden and soon the angel would be forced to use his blade to cut through it.

“Will you visit me, while I am in exile?”

The angel stopped and turned to face his charge once again. He was honestly taken aback by the question. Why would the woman want for his presence? Why would he subject himself to hers? Despite all the reasons to just tell her no, Samael found himself considering it. It would be a lie to say that the woman hadn't intrigued him from the moment he laid eyes upon her. She was something captivating. Something _different,_ and from their conversation, he found her to be a better match for his wit than the majority of the Host.

“I do not know that it would be allowed, but I should like to.”

The gift he received in return for his answer was one in all of his years he would never forget. For the first time in their short acquaintance, Lilith smiled at him and the angel knew he was caught. Allowed or not, he would be finding this creature, this woman, again.

“When you wish to see me, simply call my name and I will hear it.”

Samael stumbled, the branches and vines suddenly giving away to the barren desert that sprawled beyond the Garden's border. His wings spread and he righted himself easily, though not before Lilith reached out and wrapped her hands around his arm to lend her own aid. Their eyes met again and for a long moment, neither being moved. Before he could stop her, the woman pressed her lips against his. It was only for a moment; the gesture confusing the angel into inaction, and then she pulled away.

Lilith beamed smugly up at him as she chuckled at his puzzled expression. “Farewell then, for now, Samael. You have been better company than what I have ever experienced, but I have a new world to explore, one free from my former chains of service and while it is frightening, I look forward to it. When I wish to see you again, I will call, but not before then. I am my own master and I shall do whatever I wish!”

For being punished, she looked triumphantly pleased, as she turned walking bravely to her fate. Samael could not help the smile that crossed his own face at the thought of it. She would call on him soon, he was sure of it. Only once she was out of sight, did he turn and spread his wings to take flight back to the center of the Garden. It was time to return home.

 

 

 

 

 

There were limited ways to enjoy one's self in Hell, but Crowley never let that stop him.

For one, hell was unpleasant, even for the demons that called it home. In Crowley, that manifested in an itch in his left nostril that just wouldn't go away. Fortunately, there were some diversions. A demon as ancient and powerful as himself had his pick of the multitudes of human souls that dropped into the pit on a daily basis, but he was ever so picky with his pets. His girls were the creme of the crop, and he saw to each ones' breaking and training personally.

He was making excellent progress with his newest recruit when the summons came. Yet another meeting of all of Hell's generals. Perfect.

“Ever so sorry, darling. We'll have to pick this up later. Daddy has to go make nice with the three blind mice.” The tortured woman heaved a sigh of relief around her gag as he stepped away and removed his apron. “Don't be that way, precious. Why don't I call the hounds so you don't get bored while I'm gone?”

Crowley whistled sharply and the sound of claws skidding against rock filled the air. Growley and his pack turned the corner just as Crowley finished making himself look presentable for the meeting.

“Good boys. Lisa here screams so prettily. Don't let her stop screaming until I get back.” The fear was back in her eyes as the dogs approached. Exactly as it should be. Now Crowley could leave and face another particular brand of torture.

Crowley left his domain and entered the neutral territories will all the joy of a man attending his own funeral. It was what one would expect it to be: bleak, confusing, and damn near torturous to navigate. If it weren't the danger of a tortured soul bleeding all over you, it was a pit of lava or a sheer, never-ending drop. On top of all else, everything; absolutely everything, was some varying shade of red. Whether it was God or some other ancient creature that designed the place, they had done a damn shoddy job of it. Crowley had been dreaming of the changes he'd make when he was in charge for over a millenia

The meeting place was at the highest point in Hell. The peak of Mount. Tartarus had been flattened to create it, so only the strongest of demons could make it up all of the damned stairs and look down to survey what Hell had to offer. It wasn't much, in Crowley's ever so humble opinion, not that anyone had ever asked him. Aside from a very few changes, such as the top of the mountain getting leveled, Hell hadn't really changed in a very long time. Unfortunately, it was all he had to look at as he climbed the bloody multitude of stairs.

The chore wasn't so much taxing as it was mind-numbingly boring and it was times such as this that Crowley longed to just spread his wings and fly to the damned top. It would be more trouble than climbing the damn stairs in the end, however. Crowley had been playing friendly neighborhood crossroads demon for so long that few remembered his true name, let alone his origin, and he liked it that way. As far as anyone else in Hell was concerned, he'd lost his grace and wings soon after being banished like the rest of the Fallen and had eventually turned fully demon. It was a load of bullocks, but it kept him safe and out of the spotlight.

Crowley huffed when he finally reached the meeting place to find most of the Knights there and already arguing amongst themselves. Bloody typical. These meetings, even limited to the thirteen of them, were a huge waste of time. Nothing ever got resolved without bloodshed in Hell. Crowley didn't even know half of the Knights' names--the roster rotated so often due to power struggle--and the occasional assassination via archangel was known to occur.

The only ones which truly mattered anyway, were the ruling five.

With Hell's true ruler, and coincidentally the only one who could do anything about the scenery--Lucifer, stuffed away in his box, a type of ruling council thing had been formed. It had been Lilith's idea and since she was the “first” demon, everyone went along with it. Lilith, of course, sat at the head of the table and held most of the imagined power. The little black-eyes practically worshiped the ground she walked on because she was the first; the bloodline of Lucifer shown proudly by her white eyes.

Crowley was technically her second in command, as well as her husband, though as of late it seemed that the demon Alistair was fulfilling both roles. Crowley welcomed the distraction that the Grand Inquisitor, and third member of the council, offered his wife. The King of the Crossroads had far better things to do than listen to her simper about his elder brother. Lilith was once a magnificent woman, but Lucifer and Hell had ruined her. Besides, given that Alistair was technically Lilith's son, it left Crowley with all sorts of insulting material with which to annoy.

The fourth member of the ruling five was whatever member of the Deadly Sins showed up for the meeting. The seven of them shared the position but only one of them could represent the group at a time. Crowley nodded to Wrath as they both took their seats. If nothing else , the day's meeting would be interesting to witness. Wrath always had been the most fun.

The last member of the Five was mysteriously absent, and Crowley figured they were about to find out why, as Lilith called the assembled group to what passed as order. The proxy ruler of Hell stood before the council, in all of her mostly rotted, non-vesseled glory and cleared her throat. Crowley lounged back in his chair, doing his best to get comfortable for the long haul.

“Long have we waited for this night,” Lilith began after an uncomfortable moment of silence. The assembled demons muttered amongst themselves to fill the equally uncomfortable moment that followed. “Silence! Tonight Azazel's long plans come to an end and we will have our Boy King!”

“Which explains the yellow-eyed bastard's absence then, I suppose,” Crowley drawled. There was no love lost between Crowley and Azazel, and it had nothing to do with the lesser demon's perversion of the deal system. Nothing at all.

Lilith smiled at him and leaned against his chair, a feat, considering the demoness barely had any lips left at all in her true form. “Is that jealousy I detect in your tone, dear husband? Are you wishing that it was _your_ brilliant plan that we were following? Your plan of, what was it darling, to do absolutely nothing?”

“Not at all. Merely commenting on the absence of our fifth chair. I know how he hates to miss these gatherings of ours. He pouts for ages when he feels that he's been left out.”

Crowley waved a hand, dismissing the very notion and casually ignoring Lilith until she grew bored and moved away. If Lilith didn't know exactly how much Crowley had to do with Azazel's plans then he wasn't going to be the one to tell her. He also wasn't going to wind her up, as tempting as it was because the longer they sat around their ugly, and also red, table the more he wanted to scoop his brain out with a spoon.

“Yes, it is a shame he can't be here. He's far too busy overseeing the selection--”

“All my money on the Winchester kid. Don't see why he's even bothering with this Colosseum shit,” Araqiel interrupted without taking his eyes from the low hanging ceiling.

Crowley couldn't help but roll his eyes. “It's not so much Colosseum as it is Highlander. There can only be one!” Blank looks came from the entire group, the cretins. It was harder for demons of a certain power level to crawl their way out of Hell, but that was no excuse for being so out of touch with pop culture that a Highlander reference could pass unnoticed.

Lilith didn't snap like the stereotypical dictator would have in a movie, but the look she gave Crowley would have likely incinerated anyone else on the spot. Unfortunately for the First Demon, Crowley was immune to all of her looks by this point. His brows raised as he shrugged a little, doing his best to look innocent. Unfortunately for the King of the Crossroads, Lilith was immune to all of his looks, as well.

“As adorable as it is to watch the two of you making eyes at each other, this is a show we've been watching for a few million years too long and this news of yours has a time limit on it, does it not?” Abaddon growled her words and slammed her hands down on the table when she was finished. Bit of an anger problem, that one.

Crowley grinned and pointed a finger at the huge demon. “She has a point, love. Wouldn't want to miss the party because we were too busy whispering sweet nothings to make it out in time.”

“Nothing about you is sweet,” Lilith growled in answer before turning her attention back to the full group. So much for not aggravating his _wife_ , but really she made for such an easy target. “Each of you will gather your legions and march for the gates tonight. While Azazel's selection process gives us some time, I want the armies prepared to move as soon as there's a crack in that door.”

“You speak as if you expect the gate to close,” Orias interjected. “Wasn't the whole point of this selection of a Boy king to open them permanently?”

“Now there's wishful thinking,” Crowley drawled as he rolled his eyes at the naivete As if the great bloody parrots upstairs would leave a hellgate open, unchecked. Assuming the yellow-eyed git even managed to get the door open in the first place, they'd have minutes, if not seconds, to jam as many of Hell's forces through the gap as possible.

“Why are you even here, Houndmaster?” Orias scoffed. “You control no armies, even when the gates do open, you have no need to leave your post. What business do you have at this war council?”

Orias looked smug at his hit and Crowley conceded that point with a nod. He was about to ask why he was here himself, when Lilith threw her ten cents in.

“He will be joining us.” Well, that was news to Crowley, and wasn't that just bloody perfect? Now he'd have to gather the girls and make plans for his absence. “Alistair's duties require that he stay here. I'll need Crowley with me in his place.”

Neither Lilith or Alistair looked too pleased about that, but Crowley supposed that the Grand Inquisitor of Hell's inability to break the so-called Righteous Man after nearly a century would chafe just a bit. Someone even might start doubting that Alistair could perform to expectations, and what a shame that would be. The red-eyed demon lord barely managed to keep his _I know something you don't know_ expression off his vessel's face. That particular secret wasn't one he wanted to let go just yet.

“Well, that's wonderful news!” he exclaimed instead. “If I promise to show up on time, cross my crooked little heart,may I get out of this farce of a meeting? Now that I know I'll be attending the field trip, I'll have to make arrangements to ensure that the crossroads continue running properly while I'm off playing manservant.”

For a split second, Lilith looked like she was going to protest but thought better of it. Crowley really was more of a disruptive force than he was a productive member of the council. “Fine. Get out. But you will be at the front of the line when the gates open or I will summon you and kill you myself.”

She could try, and would fail miserably, but Crowley kept that little comment to himself. He was just full of juicy secrets. He reassured the demoness of his sincerity anyway as he stood and headed back to the blasted staircase. “You know me dearest. All you have to do is call my name and I'll find you.”

The old promise was soured by the years and blood between them, and Lilith merely waved him off as she turned back to her little tea-party without so much as a goodbye. To Crowley the promise was really more of a curse. A curse, that if Azazel played his part correctly, Crowley would soon be free of. The King of the Crossroads took to the stairs with a cheer that he certainly hadn't felt while climbing them. Going down was always easier than the trip up, wasn't it?

Crowley raised an imaginary glass to the yellow-eyed demon as he walked. Here was to Azazel, his favorite scapegoat, for bringing Crowley's plans into action without ever realizing he was doing it. May his death be swiftly forthcoming, because Crowley was getting tired of leading the bastard around by his short and curlies.

Time to put a little hustle into his step. Crowley now had his own pre-gate-opening arrangements to make and his first stop; the so-called Righteous Man.

 

 

 

  
 

 

Time passed. It had the unfortunate habit of doing so, even in Heaven. Samael met Lilith when she called him. Then he met her again. And again. In truth, the angel grew a little more infatuated with the human each time he saw her, and he knew it was trouble. He knew that it was forbidden, particularly with a creature that had already earned Father's ire. Knowing every reason he shouldn't still wasn't enough to keep the angel away when Lilith called him.  
  
When they were apart, the guilt ate at him. He loved his Father, and wanted to obey him. Samael didn't want to disobey, but still he did and along with the guilt came the fear that they would be discovered. It plagued him every moment he was in Heaven. He was so sure that at any moment the summons would come and he would have to face Father's disappointment and wrath.

Yet, it did not happen. There were larger things going on in Heaven than Samael's frequent disappearances.

Michael and Lucifer fighting was not a new thing. The eldest of the archangels loved each other fiercely, but fought just as often as they got along. One would have to be blind to not notice the escalation of their fighting, and as burdened as Samael was by his own problems, he was not blind. The oddest part about it, was that the two of them kept whatever it was they were arguing about carefully between them. Father undoubtedly knew everything about it, but the rest of the Host was kept in careful ignorance to the subject that was causing so much dissonance amongst them.

That didn't stop others from joining in. Michael had his supporters in the Host, Lucifer had his, and both sides seemed more than prepared to follow their leaders right into war though, none of them actually knew what the fighting was about.

Between the fighting and his own inner turmoil, there was no peace for Samael to have in Heaven.

He, like most of the other archangels, refused to take sides in the increasing arguments between his brothers and instead spent most of his time avoiding them. He would not be bullied into picking one of them over the other.

Going to spend time on Earth was, oddly enough, a Godsend. Despite the odds against her, Lilith flourished in the wilds. Samael was constantly astounded by her ingenuity. The woman often took the slightest scraps of information he gave her and used it in ways he hadn't even thought of. He taught her as much as he dared. They were mostly little things that would hopefully go unnoticed in Heaven's distraction. The things she taught him in return, well, they were things he'd never imagined before and now he could not imagine life without. It was the tangle of her fingers in his hair, the warmth of her touch against his skin. The press of her lips against his.

The hours he spent in Heaven forever felt longer and longer. He counted every second that passed with a longing to leave again and go to Earth where the air didn't feel quite so heavy.

The angel couldn't always contain his wander-lust, and soon found himself seeking solace in Heaven's Garden. While still achingly beautiful, the garden of Heaven paled in comparison to Eden, though no one said so aloud. The Garden of Eden was truly one of Father's most beautiful creations, and nothing made by an angel could ever compare. That didn't mean that Joshua's domain wasn't a sight to behold, and Samael had always enjoyed the sense of serenity he felt within its borders.  
  
Unfortunately, today that serenity was nowhere to be found. Samael tried to contain his unease, but the feeling that something would soon happen continued to well up in him and make him anxious. Instead of sitting under his favorite tree the archangel walked the garden's pathways, hoping to dispel some of the anxious energy.

Samael was on his third lap of the garden when Raphael appeared at his side. “Samael, you must come. Something has happened and Father has ordered us all gathered.”

He offered no other explanation, and though Raphael's tone was always grave Samael could hear the urgency there. “Of course,” the younger angel muttered. His feeling of disquiet doubled. Had he been discovered? “I will go immediately,” he added, with confidence he didn't exactly feel.

Raphael spoke no more and merely offered his brother a sharp nod before disappearing. The younger angel hesitated a moment to pull himself together before following suit. Samael landed in the throne room half a second later, his bright golden wings fluttering as they settled. The angel himself was anything but settled as he took in the sight before him. After the personal summons he'd been expecting a meeting of the archangels, but the entire host was gathering. Angels were still arriving, slowly filling the room as Samael walked forward to take his place amongst his brothers.

The group became less organized the closer to the throne Samael got. Normally the angels settled into rows, depending on their age and rank with the archangels place being the closest to the throne. None of that normal organization was present and Samael found himself pushing his way through a mob to get to his place. The first thing he notice--once he got close enough--was that the Lord was not present and the second, was that Michael and Lucifer were arguing openly in front of everyone. Samael pushed a young dark-haired seraphim aside to approach the other archangels.

Michael and Lucifer were speaking in low angry tones while Gabriel tried in vain to calm them both down. Those gathered could see that it was a lost cause. Michael was slowly turning red and the elder archangels were clearly mere moments from coming to blows, but still the second youngest kept trying. Samael sidestepped the trio to approach Raguel. The normally serene angel was watching her brothers fight with a deep frown and her hands clenched in her robes.

“What has happened?” Samael asked once he was standing at the other's side.

Raguel turned and regarded the darker angel for a moment before looking back at the trio. “I do not know,” she quietly confessed. “The only thing that is clear is that it was Lucifer that gathered the host here and not Father. I do not like this.”

“Nor do I,” Samael rasped as he tried to recover from the shock. What was Lucifer thinking? Father would surely not stand for this.

“No, Michael! I will not be quiet. I called this meeting for a reason and I will see it through with or without your blessing. I would much rather have it, and you know it, yet you will not stand with me. I know you do it just to spite me!”

All of Lucifer's attention was on Michael as he silently pleaded with the other angel to join him in whatever madness had taken him., but Michael shook his single human head and turned away.

“There is nothing about my decision not to support you that has to do with spite. I do know that you would have me at your back, as I would have you at mine, but I cannot support you in this, Lucifer. Not this time. This path you walk, you must walk it alone.”

It was sad, and it was final. Samael found himself holding his breath as Lucifer grew quiet then more and more shattered. Michael was walking away and every part of the Lightbringer appeared as if he wanted nothing more but to follow. He did not, however. The angel's eyes suddenly grew dark and determined. With a great roar he faced the gathered host.

“No! Not alone. For even though you will not support me, Michael, there are others amongst us whom feel the same pain, the same conflict that I do, and they will stand with me!”

Michael paused in his retreat and turned to face his brother once again with a grim expression. He didn't speak, none did. Lucifer's words brought about an eerie silence over the room. Unlike the majority of the host, he had not adapted a more human appearance to garner Father's favor and that he towered before them in his true form only made him all the more resplendent. No one said a word. None moved or even twitched, but even the full attention of the Host did not seem to lessen the archangel's ire in the least.

“Brothers, sisters. Do not let Michael's demeanor fool you. I have not gathered you here today out of madness or anger, but of love. It has always been our duty to obey, but how can we do this when Father orders us to love another more than he? Why are the humans worth our devotion? Why do they deserve our Father's greatest creation more than we do? We, who have ever been by his side, at his feet, loving him above all else? Why are we any less deserving of our Father's love?”

Samael's eyes were riveted on his brother. It was true that many of the angels were resistant to their newest order, but this was disobedience that Lucifer was speaking of. Samael knew with a pang that he was already guilty of this particular crime, but he still balked at the notion of what Lucifer was doing. Samael wasn't the only one. In fact, the only angel that seemed unsurprised was Michael, who was slipping nearly unnoticed from the room, his entire posture defeated.

“I stand before you now, Brothers and Sisters, telling you that I will not submit to this order. I do not have it in me to love those abominations more than I love you, more than I love my Father. We should not have to stand for this. The Earth should be ours! Many of you whom have not met the monkey creatures, do not know. These humans, they take what our Father has given them and demand more! They demand things of their Almighty Lord! And they will not stop there. They will--”

Raphael moved forward to block the crowd's view of Lucifer and that was all it took. The luminous archangel did not even have to finish his impassioned speech, he had brought war to Heaven. Lucifer batted Raphael with a great sweep of his wings, and as if it were some signal, chaos broke out amongst the Host. It was hard to tell whom was fighting who, but Samael didn't hesitate to jump into the fray. Vaguely he could sense Jophiel at his back as he pushed his way through the mass, doing his best to separate the fighting angels, for all the good it did. When taken from their current target they merely found another.

There. Just ahead of him, Samael could make out the form of a young angel, different from the one before, about to be trampled in the mayhem. The archangel dove forward, tackling the angel and covering them both with his wings. Jophiel was still as his back and helped to pull him back up between blows. Any of the archangels could end this decisively, but none of them truly wanted to hurt any of their brothers.

The debate was for nothing however, as suddenly everything was over as quickly as it started. The Creator's mere presence was enough to bring the battle to a complete standstill. With Michael trailing behind him, the angels' Father parted the crowd, heading straight to Lucifer. The order was unspoken but understood ,and those that had fought for Lucifer's cause gathered behind him, huddled together and fearful as their leader stood before them, tall and unashamed even in the face of his Father. The ground was covered in ash from angels lost during the melee and as Father passed each one, his frown deepened.

Samael stood at the edge of the loyal. He didn't truly feel a part of them, but he would not stand with Lucifer for this. He could not, knowing that he loved Lilith more than he thought possible. The young angel, Samandriel, if he remembered correctly, was still gathered against his chest, pressing himself as close as Samael's armor would allow. Samael could not help but think that the young ones should not be there and was dismayed to see so many of them standing behind the Morning Star.

“Lucifer,” God asked finally. “What have you done?”

At the sound of his divine voice, the gathered all fell to their knees; loyal or not. Lucifer's whispered “No,” echoed through the deathly silent room, and to the Host's amazement and horror, the second son rose back to his feet.

"What have I done? I've opened their eyes, Father. You order us to love these pathetic creatures more than we love you? No, Father. I cannot. I have told Michael and now I tell you. Please Father, do not ask this of me; of us! The humans, they don't understand the gift you've given them. You have already been made to remove one from the Garden, have you not? The woman would not obey and neither will the others. Soon enough they will pervert every good thing you have given them. They will become murderers and adulterers. They will ruin your greatest creations in their own selfishness!"

"Enough, brother," Michael begged, even though it had been he who had brought Lucifer's feelings to their Father. "You speak in certainties, how can you know such things?"

"Because it has already started! Have you not seen? The banished woman has already turned one of our brothers from us! She has seduced him with her depravity, and it will happen to more!" Lucifer's eyes went straight to Samael, and the younger archangel found his breath stolen away. He could feel the weight of first Lucifer's stare, then the entire Host's as all eyes fell upon him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, nor even think. Of all the ways he imagined his secret revealed, the reality was never even considered.

In his arms, Samandriel wriggled. Samael let him go and blinked as the young angel turned to face him. “Is it true, brother?”

He looked so hopeful and his tone pleaded with Samael for it to be a lie. The archangel looked away and up to his Father instead, who appeared unmoved by the news. He had already known then. There was nothing to do but accept his fate.

“She did not seduce me,” Samael denied. “I have fallen in love with her, and if I am to be punished for doing so, then so be it.”

Samael was barely aware of the younger angel backing away from him. The archangel only had eyes for his Father. The Creator's eyes were fathomless as he looked through his creation, seeing all, knowing all. Then, after a breath, those dark eyes moved away and back to the Morning Star.

“Samael will be dealt with accordingly, Lucifer, but you will not shift my attentions this way. His sins are not yours to lay bare. They are his own. I have long known you felt this way, but this, Lucifer? Do you not care that the bodies of your brothers and sisters litter the floor, spurred to fight each other because of your words?”

“It breaks my heart. But, as you have taught me, Father, sometimes sacrifice is necessary.”

“And those of you standing behind my brightest star, you feel as he does?”

The huddled mass of angels shifted, unsure but somehow determined at the same time as they slowly nodded their agreement. “We stand with Lucifer, Father. We cannot love any other more than we do you.”

“Why? Why must you do this?” Michael's voice suddenly cut through the room as he edged around Father. “Why are you letting your pride lead you to rebellion? Is it so important that you love Father more than anyone else does? We all love him! And because we love him, we obey!”

“Oh Michael. Have you never truly had a thought of your own? Why do you let your devotion blind you? If only you would stand---”

“No, Lucifer! We've talked about this enough! I will not stand with you. It is you who should be standing with me. Please, brother!”

The conversation went on around Samael, who now knelt alone. In the past he would have been glad for the solitude but now...

Suddenly Lucifer threw himself at Michael and tackled his elder brother to the ground. There was nothing dignified about the fighting the two angels were doing. It was a grudge match. Hit after hit landed until Michael drew his sword and Father put a stop to things.

“That is enough! Michael, Lucifer. You are my eldest creations, conduct yourselves as such.”

The two battling angels reluctantly found their feet though neither one backed away and Michael's sword was still present, gleaming in the bright lights of the throne room as if it were on fire. Samael ducked his head, unable to watch any longer. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking, shivering , even. It was something that he had never experienced himself but had witnessed Lilith do on occasion. He didn't like the feeling.

“Oh, my most beautiful son, how I love you. But there are consequences for your actions, and no matter how I wish it wasn't so, you must all be punished.”

They very air in the room was leaden and it took all that Samael had within himself to lift his head again. He did not wish to watch, but he could not look away either. Father looked so small as he stepped between the two angry angels and placed his hand on the face of Lucifer's center-most head. The archangel finally dropped to his knees, though Samael could not say if it was under his own power, or because of Father's.

The Creator gave his brightest star one more long look and Lucifer was nearly moved to tears as his Father stepped away and turned to The Eldest. “I am sorry to ask this of you, beloved, but as always you are my right arm, and thus it is your duty. Let it be witnessed that Lucifer and those behind them have rebelled, and the punishment for rebellion is banishment. You are to be cut off from the host and taken to live on Earth. Perhaps living with the humans will teach you to love them. Michael, this is my will. Let it be done.”

Everything seemed to happen at once. Michael's grace flared and the screams of the disobedient filled the air. Above the din, Lucifer's anguished roar of denial could be heard. Then, as quickly as it had begun there was silence.

Samael was surprised to find himself whole and unharmed with the bright flare of his brother's power faded away. Lucifer and his followers were nowhere to be found, though the sound of their pain still echoed in Samael's ears.

“Mourn what we have lost today,” Father ordered the Host, his voice filled with quiet pain. “For the loss is great.”

To Samael's ears, Father had never sounded to old. “And my work today has not yet ended.

The Creator ran a hand over his bearded face then turned his eyes on Samael. The angel's head ducked as the full attention of what was left of the Host narrowed upon him. Never had _he_ felt so weighted. Samael shook with the strain of it for only a moment before gathering himself. He was stronger than this. He would face his fate.

“I am ready for my punishment, Father,” he began with a confidence he did not feel. “I have knowingly disobeyed you by touching the human, Lilith, and by giving her forbidden knowledge. Even now, knowing the punishment I face, knowing that I have disappointed and disobeyed you, I cannot bring myself to regret it.”

“Very well. Approach me, Samael.” God had a sad smile on his face as he beckoned the Fifth Archangel forward. “The price for disobedience, as you know, has been set. You shall be banished along with the others never to enter Heaven's gates again. But know this, you shall pay another price. No human outside of the boundaries of the Garden shall be able to look upon an angel's true face. Shall your lover gaze upon you once more, her eyes will bleed and she will fall blind. If she is to hear your voice, her ears shall rupture and she will hear no more.”

An anguished gasp tore from Samael's throat. He was to be banished to Earth, where his beloved was, but would be unable to go to her.  
  
That was it. Samael readied himself for the pain, but Father was still smiling sadly at him. And then the voice came for him, and him alone. It wasn't unlike hearing the Host, but was so much deeper as the words resonated within the angel. “The path that you walk is twisted and dark, but even now though you leave my presence today, there is still work you are meant to do. We will see each other again, a long time from now.”

Samael's eyes widened in confusion at the message. What did it mean? He didn't have the chance to question, as the pain that he had thought he was prepared for finally came. It was blinding, and unlike anything he'd ever felt before. A scream was ripped from his lips as the pain intensified, and then the darkness took him.

 

 

 

 

 

Crowley approached the rack casually, finding it to be nearly deserted. Exactly as he'd hoped. Despite their tormentors' absence, the sound of desperate screaming souls filled the humid air. There was only one soul that he was concerned with, however, and that man hung before him gaunt and beaten, with a gash in his side that dripped blood into a puddle inches before the houndmaster's feet. Unlike the others around him this man did not scream or beg though he was obviously in pain. He'd screamed himself out while being worked over by Hell's torture master, Alistair himself perhaps, but Crowley didn't think so. John Winchester was a stubborn one; unbroken after nearly a century on the rack.

Hopefully not too stubborn though, to refuse the deal that Crowley was going to offer. The King of the Crossroads had been biding his time for far too long, waiting for the most opportune moment to approach the man and now that time had come. His cohorts were far too busy preparing for the opening of the gates to care that Crowley was toying with their pet.

The man looked down at him as Crowley looked up, and the demon couldn't help but wonder what the man saw. Would he be able to tell Crowley apart from any of the other demons that roamed the pit? Would the too-pretty face and bright blue eyes of his true form clue the man in to his heritage?

Crowley shook the thought off almost as soon as it formed. The human had never knowingly encountered an angel, that he recalled, before. There was nothing to suspect, other than Crowley was a slightly less dirty demon than all the others. Hell, he hardly seemed to notice the demon at all though their eyes were locked green on hazel. Here he was, the man all of Hell was so sure was the Righteous Man, who would spill blood and set forth the chain events that would lead to the freedom of their beloved maker. Crowley, of course, had his doubts. John Winchester just didn't fit the role, there was no sense of poetry to him. He let Alistair and Lilith keep their delusions though, trying to break the man kept them busy and out of his hair.

Now though, the human was in the way. The deal with the true Righteous Man had been struck merely moments before. It had been one of the finest of Crowley's work, whittling away at the boy until he'd accepted a mere year left to live in return for his brother's life. The King of the Crossroads might not have personally been the demon to make the deal, but he'd controlled every second of the encounter. His professional pride wouldn't be satisfied with anything else.

“Take a picture, monster, it'll last longer,” the Winchester patriarch slurred. His eyes never left Crowley's, even as the demon stepped closer. Impressive considering it was clear that the man could barely lift his head at all. Alistair had really done a number on him this time. The messy work clearly showed the Inquisitor's frustration.

“Oh, I very much doubt that,” Crowley sneered, as he smiled angelically up at the bound sack of flesh. “Paper deteriorates rather quickly in harsh conditions, yet here you are, still hanging from the same set of chains after a hundred years. My moneys on you, pet.”

A glob of oozing wet hit him in the forehead. The demon immediately wiped it away with the back of his hand while John growled down at him, “I'm not your pet, monster.”

“You're lucky you didn't hit the suit,” Crowley remarked casually as he looked at the blood smeared on the back of his hand with a disdainful frown. A small stool was nearby so the demon kicked it close enough to John that he could stand on it and speak with the man at eye level. “Besides, that's no way to talk to your ticket out of here.”

The man laughed in Crowley's face. “If you asswipes think I'm gonna take your little 'we'll let you down as long as you pick up the hot poker' spiel just because a different demon is spinning it, then you've got another think coming.”

Crowley's smirk only brightened at the refusal. “It is delicious how you continue fighting. Oh, but you _are_ a live-wire. You got one hell of a raw deal, Johnny-boy. I'm a demon and even I can admit it, but that's what you get for dealing with a two bit hooker like Azazel. No, darling. What I have to sell you is something you haven't heard before. Shiny and new.”

John's stamina was obviously flagging. While there was no new damage being inflicted, what had already been done was more than enough to kill a living man. The tortured soul still managed to find the energy to shake his head at the crossroads demon. “What does that make you? A five bit whore?”

Crowley snickered outright at the insult. “Of course not, darling. I think you know; that makes me the pimp. Now, I'm afraid that we don't have much time, so let's talk business.”

“I already told you I'm not taking any--”

“Shh. You'll have your chance to renegotiate, but not here where anyone could overhear. Gossip travels fast in hell, you know. Ah. I know just the place.” Crowley reached out and touched the human's forehead and held firm when the man tried to shake him off.

“Oh, and how are we gonna get there,” the human coughed, trying again to shake the offending hand away. “I'm a bit tied up for the moment. But if you--”

“If you would bloody well SHUT UP FOR HALF A SECOND, you'd see that I have it covered!” Crowley's impatience got the best of him as he snarled at the man. They were on a time limit! The moment John stopped struggling, the world around them seemed to melt away.

When the world came back into focus, Crowley gave John a little time to get his bearings before announcing himself again. The hunter was surprised to find himself in a sitting room. The plush love seat underneath him was the softest thing he'd been on in what felt like forever. What he wouldn't give to have a few hours alone in here before having to---

“Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time,” Crowley drawled, as he enjoyed the way John's cheeks colored when he realized that he'd been speaking aloud. The human had obviously forgotten that the demon was there at all. So much for well-honed hunter's senses. Crowley held out a drink for John, but the hunter couldn't seem to rip his eyes away from the demons' form.

“Take a picture,” Crowley laughed as he echoed John's first words to him. “It'll last longer.”

The snark seemed to wake the hunter up a bit and John took the glass without raising it to his lips. That didn't stop Crowley from taking a healthy swig from his own with a grimace as he swallowed. He never could get the taste quite right.

“That you, monster?” the man finally questioned. He was clearly confused about something he was seeing.

Crowley paused, tumbler halfway to his mouth, wondering what the man was on about before it hit him. A quick glance into the mirror behind him confirmed it. “Oops. Well that's a little embarrassing. You see, it's like this. I can't actually take you off the rack until we've cut a deal, so we just took a nice little trip up here.” The demon tapped the side of his head with the glass before settling into a wing-backed chair conveniently across from John. “Everything you see around you is a nifty little construct. I was a bit sloppy with it. You just couldn't shut up long enough for me to get a good image going. So, this,” Crowley spread his arms wide, “Is my true form. I'm sure you've seen more than a few demons wandering about in theirs before.”

John seemed to consider that for a moment. “You don't look like the other demons.”

“Darling,” Crowley smirked while looking intently at the wayward soul. “Stick with me long enough and you'll find I'm an entirely different breed. Now, cheers! It's time to talk business.”

John still refused to drink, causing the demon to roll his eyes. Oh well, it was the human's loss. “Don't like repeating myself. I'm not taking any more demon's deals, one was enough.”

“I'm sure you think so,” Crowley nodded. “But this is one you don't want to miss. What I'm offering is you, off the rack _and_ out of Hell. I know, I know, sounds too good to be true, two for one without the one. But what can I say? I'm a giver.”

The human put the still-untouched glass on the tea table in front of him as he shook his head and smiled with ill-humor. “Boy you must really think I'm an idiot if you think I'm gonna buy that load of shit. Too good to be true is right. What's in this deal for you, monster? You've got to be getting something out of this, and I'm thinking it's not something I'm gonna like. Otherwise you wouldn't be dancing around it.”

“Your undying gratitude?” Crowley tried, snickering when John merely raised a bushy brow. “Well, since obviously you won't just accept my goodwill, let's see. Ah. I have it on good faith that your old friend, what's it you call him? Yellow Eyes, is likely about to bite the dust. As such, your soul would technically no longer be his and you'd be like any old soul in the pit.”

Crowley watched the emotions play across John's face as he spoke. The human was surprisingly expressive, though it might have just been Crowley's well trained eye picking up on all the little nuances. Satisfaction and a bit of regret were easy to see at the mention of Azazel.

Both of the emotions quickly faded back into skeptical confusion as Crowley went on. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“In return for taking you down etcetera, etcetera, I want to add a little addendum to your original contract, that says once dearest Azazel is dearly departed, the ownership of your soul transfers to yours truly. There. Not that bad of a deal at all, right? You're not giving up a thing that you haven't already sold.”

“No. I said I wasn't taking another deal, and I meant it. You can stuff your deal right up your ass, monster,” John growled with an air of finality as he stood.

Crowley rolled his eyes and barked, “Sit!”

John immediately sat down and his eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. Before he could even open his mouth Crowley cooed, “Good boy. I'm not the Houndmaster for nothing.”

“Now listen here, you--”

“No,” the demon growled, leaning forward to slam his glass against the table. “If you don't take my deal, do you want to know what will happen? We leave here and you're back on the rack. Everyone that can make it out of the Gate, myself included, makes a run for it, leaving you here all alone with Alistair. You might last a while longer, but with the legion out on Earth, the white eyed bastard is going to be stepping up his game. He might even figure out how to break you. When he does, John, it's all over. The moment you take his deal and you spill innocent blood, congratulations, you've just jump-started the Apocalypse.”

“I'm not going to break,” the human denied, as he jumped to his feet again. “Now how in the hell do I get out of here. I'm tired of listening to your bullshit.”

Crowley let the man wander the room, banging on walls and looking for the exit as the demon took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. “Still no? Well. That just won't do. You've got me by the bollocks, John. Very admirable. While you might not care about the end of the world, I unfortunately, do. But, I _do_ know something that you _do_ care about. Those boys of yours.”

John froze and slowly turned back around to face the demon. “What about my boys, you smug son-of-a-bitch?”

“Oh, calm down. I'm not threatening them. You really need to learn to lighten up. Have a drink and let loose. I'm offering to let you see them. Supposing you take my deal, we blow this pit once the gate's lock has been picked and surprise! We pop out on Earth exactly where I'm betting your sons will be at that very moment in time. They really are peril-friendly, aren't they?”

For the first time since their meeting John looked unsure of himself. He was actually listening to Crowley now, the promise of getting to see his offspring again a tempting enough offer to break the man. The demon knew he'd won. If John was even considering it at all, he'd take the deal. It was far too good not to. Time to put the burner on it.

The world shook around them for a split second and Crowley sighed as he stood up and took a step closer to the hunter. “Well, darling. It looks like our time is up. I'll be needing your decision now.”

John still looked unsure. “You'll really let me see the boys?”

“Cross my black, little, shriveled heart..”

The human let out a snort. “That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but fine, I'll do it. It's not like you can do worse to me than the white-eyed bastard has .”

Crowley's answering grin was blinding. What the human didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Much. “I knew you'd make the right choice. Now, do me a favor ,darling, and say 'We have a deal, Crowley' and I'll take care of the rest.”

Even before the man opened his mouth to say the words the demon was in his personal space. For all the unrest he surely felt about this decision, he didn't show a lick of it.

“We have a deal, Crowley.”

The moment the last syllable of his name left John's mouth, Crowley sealed their lips together and let the dream construct around them melt away. John jerked in surprise, and then in pain as he came back into his physical body still hanging on the rack as it had been the entire time. The taste of blood filled Crowley's mouth but he let the kiss linger a tad longer than necessary. Sealed with a kiss and with blood; this new deal would easily overpower Azazel's claim, which hadn't been sealed at all. Should the little upstart survive, Crowley might kill the other demon himself for sullying the good name of the Deals Department with his little 'catch 22' plots.

John lost consciousness mere seconds after Crowley pulled away. All the excitement must have been too much for him in his current state. The King of the Crossroads gave his newest acquisition a fond pat on the head before stepping down from the stool. Barely five minutes had passed since Crowley approached the man but the stout vesseled demon knew better than to expect much more. Meeting or no meeting, Alistair wouldn't leave this particular post unattended for long.

“Just hang out for now, pet. I'll be back for you when it's time to go.”

The unconscious soul didn't react but Crowley smiled at him anyway, as he imagined the sour comment the human would have undoubtedly spat back at him if he could. Breaking the hunter would be interesting. Crowley had to be careful though. The soul would be of no use to him if it was _too_ broken. No, the training of John Winchester would be a tightrope act and it was one that Crowley was looking forward to performing.

It didn't take as long as he was expecting for news of the gate's impending opening to find him. For some reason, Lilith seemed to have the idea that he was going to skive off on the big moment. She wasn't completely wrong; he had no plans of being at the front of the line as she'd ordered him to be. Oh, well. She should be used to Crowley bucking her authority by now. He'd been doing it for longer than he'd had this particular name.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled as he dismissed the messenger. “Tell her to keep her knickers on. I'm coming.”

The black-eyed pissant looked terrified at the very notion of saying as much to the First and scurried off. Crowley turned to his second in command, one of his oldest red eyed darlings and favored her with a smile. “You know what to do. I'll contact you if anything changes. I expect things to continue working smoothly on this side. And don't spoil the bloody hounds will you?”

The demoness laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “We'll do our best. Knock 'em dead, boss.”

“I always do,” Crowley smiled and straightened his tie.

A great horn sounded and Crowley knew it was time to go. The army was being called to muster and once the gates were open the time window would be small. The game was on.

His approach to the torture chamber was a cautious one. Hell may be emptying itself of it's armies but that didn't mean that there weren't demons around that would question why he was currently walking in the wrong direction.

A singular black-eye was guarding John. Crowley imagined that Alistair was off telling his paramour goodbye and had left this poor sod in his place. The low-ranking demon's presence was an inconvenience but nothing that Crowley couldn't handle. The echoing sound of the horn cut through the screaming that echoed in the torture chamber. The next time it sounded it would be the order to march.

Crowley casually approached the guard, not giving the other demon time to open the maw that passed for his mouth and slammed his hand against the other's forehead. A bright flash of light later the demon was little more than a pile of dust at Crowley's feet. He had just _cleaned_ those shoes, too.

John was blinking down at him as if he'd never seen Crowley before. Hopefully the human was only confused at the demon's death and actually remembered their first meeting. It would make life so much simpler. The human did look a little better than he had at their first meeting. If he had to put money on it, Crowley would say that John had been healed and tortured all over again in the span on a couple hours.

“Hello, pet. Time to go,” Crowley greeted the man cheerfully as he used the same footstool to step up to his level.

“You fucking left me here,” John growled. “I thought we had a deal.”

“Oh good, you do remember. We're leaving now. Our escape is all about timing. We only have a few--” Crowley was interrupted by the third sounding of the horn. “Ah, there's our cue now. Time to exit, stage left.”

Without any other warning Crowley plucked John from the rack and gathered the tortured soul close to his chest. Luckily, he wasn't wearing his favorite suit; the man was practically saturated with his own blood. It was clear from the human's barely conscious state that he wouldn't be leaving hell on his own steam. The way Crowley planned to travel, the human wouldn't have been able to keep up even if he was in top form. Without wasting any more time, Crowley took a deep breath and spread his wings. They had been unused for over a million years at the least, and the pressure was painful but gave away quickly into pure rapture, as the six monstrous wings arched and stretched out behind the _angel_. Crowley didn't have to see them to know that they were in a pathetic state of disrepair and corruption. He could feel every burnt feather and broken bone, but there was nothing to be done about it. He could only hope they were still strong enough to carry him up and out of the pit once more.

With a mighty flap, the King of the Crossroads, Snake of Eden, and banished angel formerly known as Samael, heaved himself and his burden into the air. It was as if he never stopped flying at all. He allowed himself one small, elated whoop then sped for the gates.

John would likely remember nothing of their escape. The human was damn near limp in his arms and could do little more than moan pitifully when Crowley jostled him. Crowley would remember every minute of it though. He was flying as fast and as high as he dared to avoid detection, and it was absolutely exhilarating. At the very last moment before passing through the gate, he dived into the horde of demons, their physical forms giving away to swirling masses of dust as they hit the living realm.

Crowley followed the cloud only for a moment, using it as cover until he could find a secluded spot to land. His landing was rough, and he stumbled letting John's body thud against the ground. The human moaned at the rough treatment but Crowley ignored him for the moment in favor of retracting his wings. It never got less painful to do, but it was a very necessary evil, and Crowley was the king of necessary evils.

John's spirit groaned as he rolled over and tried to push himself up. As if mortal constraints still applied to him, how cute.

“I suppose you'll want healed before you do your little meet and greet,” Crowley drawled.   

Watching the man roll around in the dirt really was kind of pitiful. A groan was his only answer so the demon stooped in the dust and laid his hand on John's shoulder. It only took a second to set the spirit to rights, and barely any power at all, but Crowley found himself panting slightly anyway. The flight had taken more out of them than he thought. John sat up the moment he realized he was no longer in pain and shook his shoulder trying to get free of his new master's hold. Crowley rolled his eyes and stood.

“Well, there you go then. The last little matter of our business here is waiting right around the corner. So get to it.

The spirit frowned up at the demon as he pushed himself to his feet. He backed away from Crowley a few steps, his harsh gaze never leaving the shorter man's face. “What in the hell are you?”

“The name's Crowley. King of the Crossroads, among other things. It's a pleasure. Now off with you. Don't want to be late. I'll be around to collect you once the conjugal visitation is over. 

John shot him a look that was anything but pleased, but didn't linger, not when his boys were so near. He took another couple of steps backwards before turning to jog off and Crowley watched him go.

After a few minutes, the demon followed at a more sedate pace easily cloaking himself from sight. He found a nice tombstone to sit on to watch the show, after all, he didn't want to miss this. Azazel was predictably gloating about his victory as John approached behind him. It was clear that the human had learned a little something in Hell when he wrapped his arms around the yellow-eyed demon and pulled him right from his vessel.

“Bravo,” Crowley muttered. He was going to have to watch out for that. And then Azazel was dead, felled by a gun that Crowley just had to get his hands on. Something like that would be quite the useful tool. The demon tuned out the tearful reunion, instead stepping around the happy family to look at the vessel that had once contained one of Hell's ruling five. Absolutely nothing was left of the demon that had once inhabited it. Crowley grinned at the body. That was one down, three to go.

 

 

 

 

There was no question that Samael adored the woman. Lilith was the name their father had given her when he created her for his beloved Adam, and the name fit her perfectly. She was entirely unlike the man and his new wife, unflinching in the face of the serpentine form he'd been required to take so that she could look upon him without being blinded, and almost as irreverent to Heaven's plans for her as were the Fallen..

The angel coiled his body around her naked form, enjoying the warmth she gave. Though Eden's veil was lifted from her, she still chose not to clothe herself. Just another act of defiance, and though his vessel wouldn't last much longer Samael was determined to enjoy himself while he could.

Lilith cupped him under the jaw and ran her other hand gently over the scales of his belly. “I miss being able to gaze upon your true form.”

Samael hissed in displeasure, but did not have a chance to answer otherwise, his senses flaring with warning mere seconds before Lucifer appeared. “Close your eyes and cover your ears!” he ordered Lilith before his brother's arrival could do her harm. Even with the warning, she cried out as Lucifer appeared, as horrible and beautiful as he'd been in Heaven, and threw herself to the ground, nearly crushing Samael's vulnerable form.

“Brother! I have been searching for you and I find you here in the body of a beast, cavorting with one of the very things that stole our father's love from us!” Lucifer's voice boomed as he stalked forward and Samael abandoned his vessel, the serpent's body disintegrating almost instantly into ash. The younger angel stood before his elder brother, unafraid and determined to protect his new lover.

“Why? Why were you seeking me, Lucifer? You've wanted nothing to do with me or any of the rest of our fallen brothers since the moment we were cast to Earth. They've needed you and you've been gone, doing who knows wha--”

Lucifer interrupted him looking manic. “I've found a great power, Samael! For you, for our brothers. I've caged this power and bound it to my will so that we may fight to regain our rightful places, though it seems you're content crawl about in a form not your own. Even now our garrisons are regaining their powers so that we may once again wage our war against heaven!”

The Morning Star stepped forward again and Samael stepped more fully between his brother and Lilith's huddled form.

“Wage war against Heaven? Lucifer! Brother! Have you gone mad? The Fallen are little more than human, no matter what power you believe you've given them! To go against Heaven's armies would be suicide. Restore them if you can, but please do not throw them upon Michael's sword. I beg of you.” Samael reached up and cradled his brother's center-most face, the most human one.

Lucifer shook him off almost immediately. “You beg me? Samael. Brother. Surely by now you have seen the error in your love for the human. Would you not join me? Join us? Are you not angry at our fate?”

“I am angry, but I will not join you, Lucifer. Not again. I have no wish to die. I made no error. I have found something worth continuing on for.”

The Morning Star's rage was mighty, causing Lilith to whimper and moan even as Samael did his best to shield her. “Something? Something worth continuing for? That? The mud-monkey, Samael? Is that it? You would turn your back on your family, on me, for that?”

Samael scowled. “I would not turn my back on anyone. It was you who turned your back on me and laid my love to bare before the Host.”

“You left me little choice! You would rather run and hide with your whore than fight by my side as you swore to do.” Suddenly, Lucifer's anger was gone, and he was deathly calm. Samael tensed, reaching for his blade, when his brother pushed him roughly aside. The smaller of the angels stumbled and fell, surging back to his feet when Lilith screamed. Lucifer had her by the throat, holding her against him almost tenderly. “Go ahead, Samael. We all know that your tongue is sharper than that sword.”

“So it is, but that doesn't mean the sword isn't sharp enough to cut. Please brother, I have no more wish to fight you than I do anyone else. Do not harm her. Let her go.” Lilith's eyes were still clenched shut, though her hands had been displaced from her ears in the struggle. Blood trickled down from them and ran over Lucifer's clawed fingers, caused merely by the sound of her own lover's voice.

“Harm her? No Samael, no! I'm about to do you a mighty favor. You love this pitiful creature that cannot even look upon your true face nor hear your true voice. That's depressing. But don't you worry, dear, sweet Samael. Big brother is going to fix it for you.” Even as Samael rushed forward to try to pull him away, Lucifer worked his magic. Somehow he cut himself, forced the wound to Lilith's mouth, and made her drink.

“Lilith! No!”

He cried out in warning, throwing himself against the two of them, blade forgotten. Lucifer wrapped his wings around the three of them, holding them together as he continued to feed the woman his blood and turn her into something knew. Even Samael didn't know what the consequences of his brother's actions would truly be, but if Lilith survived she would not be the woman that had drawn the angel to her side. She would be an abomination.

The grip Lucifer had on her throat slowly loosened and turned into a caress as he smiled down at his new creation. Lilith was limp between them and slowly, her eyes began to drift open taking in their true forms for the first the time without pain since her banishment from Eden. Though Lucifer still held them all together, Lilith wrapped her arms around Samael and pulled him closer, offering him a serene smile. “Samael, you are beautiful.”

“No,” the angel frowned attempting to pull back though he was still trapped.

Lucifer's smile was as serene and devastating at the woman's. “Shh Samael. Look upon my daughter, my demon. It is better now, you see. This thing that you love is turned to my service now, just as you are. There is no reason for you not to lead my armies into battle now, for she is part of them. I have changed her for you, so that you may be together. And now I shall bind you together for all of eternity. A proper prince and princess for my kingdom.”

“Lucifer, no,” Samael denied and tried to break away once again. It pained him to see Lilith upset at his denial, but he could not comfort her. Not like this.

“Yes, brother. You were willing to Fall for her, will you not commit yourself to her for the rest of your lives? Surely that's nothing compared to what you have already given up. Do you not love her?”

“Stop this, Lucifer. You've done enough, now let us go!” Samael growled.

“Look, now you've offended your bride to be! You've always been a bit sour brother, but this is really upsetting.” Lucifer frowned as if he was sincerely troubled by Samael's actions. “I expected gratitude! Your love can now look upon us without danger.”

Anger welled up within Samael, and he stopped playing his elder brother's game. With a great push of his own he separated the three of them, causing Lucifer to stumble and Lilith to fall. “And who knows what else! What you have done Lucifer..it was not meant to happen. She is no longer human! I can feel your blood in her brother, spreading through her veins like a plague! It's changing her, Lucifer. It may even be killing her!”

Lilith moaned and pushed herself back to her feet. Immediately she latched onto Samael's arm, trying to force the angel to look at her. Samael could already feel a new strength in her limbs. This was a nightmare. “Samael, my love. I'm whole. I am unharmed! Please, my love. Your brother has given us a gift. Let him finish it. Be my husband. I will have none but you.”

Samael's eyes softened as he looked down at her. “This is not the blessing you think it is, love. Mark my words. Father will not--”

“Father cares not for us! If he did he would not have cast us here!” Lucifer interrupted. “I do not understand you, Samael. I never have. Why will you not follow me?”

“In Heaven I blindly followed Father,” the angel hissed darkly. “The Fallen, they idiotically followed you. Look at where it has gotten them. No more, Lucifer. Here, I shall follow no one but myself!”

“What is it you have done now, Lucifer?”

A new, unexpected voice in the clearing had the three heads snapping around to the source. Michael's glory and anger was so fierce that it hurt Samael to look at him, and he sunk back, closer to Lilith still protecting her despite her altered form. She hissed and hid her face in Samael's shoulder, less able to look at The Good Son than the fallen archangels were. Lucifer stepped forward, growling.

“Hello, Michael! Welcome to the party. Did you meet my new daughter? And our new sister-in-law. That's a bit odd isn't it?”

Michael shook his head sadly, “Oh, brother. What _**have**_ you done? Father will not forgive you this. You have perverted Father's greatest work.”

“It's not his forgiveness I am seeking, brother. We are beyond that now.”

“Lucifer! We are not beyond anything! Stop this madness. Come, let us kill the abomination and reverse whatever it is you have done to the rest of our brothers here. Then Father will--”

Lucifer roared. “He will do what? Take us back with open arms? No, you know what it is he will do. You cannot stand there and lie to me, Michael. If I stop now, all that awaits me is an eternity in this place!”

“And that is better than what will happen if you do not! I am warning you, Lucifer,” Michael insisted.

“No! Armies of Earth to me!” Lucifer howled with all his might, making the very ground beneath him tremble. Suddenly the clearing was filled with the Fallen and Samael could bear it no more. Lilith was already attempting to pull away from him, to join the impending battle, but Samael was still stronger by far. Too intent on each other, Michael and Lucifer did not notice their younger brother backing away, dragging his lover with him.

“No! Let me go, my father needs me!” Lilith screamed and cursed as he pushed her to the ground. Around them the great battle was raging though Samael did his best to shield the both of them from it. His love still struggled in his arms, driven by a sudden loyalty to Lucifer that scared Samael. Lilith should fear his brother, not feel drawn to him.

“Silence!” Samael roared, growing tired of her struggles. “You'll serve him better by surviving to fight in his name another day. The only thing that shall happen today is a massacre.”

Grace was heavy in the air as the fighting continued. Lilith eventually settled in his arms, though she still trembled with rage or some other unnamed emotion that Samael did not know. It was only by some miracle that they remained there, unnoticed in the dust of the Earth as slowly the fighting ceased and silence once again ruled the Wasteland.

The sound of wings settling made Samael look up to find Michael standing before them. Beyond his brother, there was no sign that a battle had even taken place, merely the same reaching desert that had existed before.

“Michael,” Samael spoke hesitantly, as he pulled himself to his feet. He pulled Lilith up after himself and pushed her behind him. The battle might have been over, but Michael's continued presence did not bode well.

“Samael. You did not fight, and you may yet be spared the other's fate. But you must allow me to kill the abomination Lucifer has created. She cannot be allowed to survive and you know it.”

Samael's shoulders slumped, though this was exactly what he had been expecting from Michael. In truth, did he not love Lilith he might have agreed, but even the disgust Samael felt at what Lucifer had done could not eclipse the love he felt.

“No, Michael. I cannot allow you to kill her, and if that means my death, then so be it.”

Michael appeared infinitely sad, and shook his head slowly as he dropped Samael's gaze. “It does not mean your death. Either of you. Though you will wish it had. Goodbye brother, may we never meet again.”

Before Samael could even process with Michael had said, the older angel's grace flared bright and painful as it had in Heaven, and Samael once again screamed as his body burned. Blindly, he latched onto Lilith when her screams joined his own and then there was darkness and falling.

 

 

 

  
 

 

It was good to be home. The mansion might not be much to look at in it's current state, but it had truly been a sight to see when Crowley acquired it over a century before. He kept it around just for those moments, when he actually took the time to crawl his way out of the pit and not simply get summoned out for a day trip. The demon and his bound spirit appeared in Crowley's favored parlor mere seconds after leaving the graveyard.

John spun on him almost immediately, growling, “TAKE ME BACK!”

Crowley did not want to have the conversation with the doomed hunter. . The wards still had to be refreshed, and some new ones installed. Instead of answering the man, he crossed the room to his liquor cart and poured them both a drink. It would likely be far too rich for John's tastes, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

“Sit,” the demon ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He smiled around the rim of his glass as the man snapped to and sank onto the plush cushion of the room's only love seat. Maybe there was a bit of that old Marine training left after all. “There, see? We're getting along already. Now, you may either sit there and stew, or follow me, and we'll have this discussion while I work.”

“Work? What, do you have some virgin tied up around here to sacrifice?”

Despite his snarky reply, John got up and followed Crowley, as the demon opened the front door and walked out into the yard. The human leaned against the door watching as Crowley ran his hands over something he couldn't see.

“As much of a party as that would be, no. The wards on the house need renewed.” But John wasn't listening to him. He seemed to have had a revelation of some sort while Crowley was talking, and was staring at his hands as if he'd never seen them before. “Those are called hands, darling.”

“I'm solid. Why am I solid? Hell, why am I even here? And what language is that?” John rattled off the litany of questions, and Crowley knew that he'd have to put a stop to that right then, or else suffer being asked things all the time.

He paused from the Enochian sigil he was drawing, to address the man. “Yes. You're a real boy. Basically. Kind of. It has it's limits. Now, you've obviously got more questions than I have hair, so let's make a game of this, shall we? I don't like being interrogated, but I love playing games. Let's say, you can ask any question you want and I will answer with 100% truth guaranteed.”

“And the catch?”

“You'll owe me a favor for each answered question. I promise I won't take advantage, unless you want me to,” Crowley leered before going back to his sigil. There was no use in bleeding any longer than he had to.

John was silent for a long moment as he watched the demon work. “Fine. And I'll never want you to touch me, monster.”

The demon flashed him a bright smile that promised all sorts of dangerous things. “You say that now darling, but you won't be saying it forever. Now, you had a question or seven for me?”

The human looked hesitant, knowing that now there was something at stake for his curiosity, but John was nothing if not stupidly brave and he quickly found his resolve. He seemed to struggle for the wording for a moment, but finally spit it out.

“You said there's a catch to being solid. What is it?”

“You're kept here by my power. See how nice I am? As long as you're on the grounds, you're solid.. The moment you pass the wards at the edge of the property, there's nastiness with transparency and reapers and oh, turning into one of the lovely vengeful spirits you used to hunt.”

Crowley finished the first sigil and moved on to the next. His movements were obviously well practiced and he drew from memory as if the complicated signs were second nature. After completing the second he paused and looked up at the pensive human.

“Now for the... favor you owe me.” Crowley enjoyed watching his pet's discomfort as he drew out the suspenseful moment. “Dinner. I think you'll find whatever you need in the kitchen.”

John gaped at him like a fish out of water. “Dinner. You want me to make you dinner.”

“Careful there Johnny-pet. Those were painfully close to being questions. Best make something good, I've worked up quite the appetite.”

The human continued to stare at him like he was crazy and Crowley couldn't help but smirk cruelly at him. John, undoubtedly, was imagining all sorts of horrible tortures that the demon would make him do. Crowley never had enjoyed playing into others' expectations. Moments passed and John still hadn't moved.

“Well? What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

John startled at Crowley's glib line of questions. The disbelief faded from his face as he recovered himself and was replaced by his customary gruffness. “Fine, but you're gonna regret it. I'll find the kitchen myself,” he growled and turned on his heel disappearing back into the house.

The demon whistled as he continued renewing the wards to keep _everyone_ out. Round one went to him.

 

….

 

That had been a week ago. The first dinner passed painfully awkward and John was right, Crowley nearly had come to regret his choice in forcing the man to cook. The meal wasn't inedible, but it wasn't up to Crowley's normally exacting standards either. John would have the time to learn. Their evening meals were now his responsibility and it wasn't like the man had anything better to do with his daylight hours.

The two of them weren't actually spending that much time together outside of their shared dinners. It was almost worrying to the demon; that he was giving his new pet too much freedom too soon, but there was nothing to be done for it. On top of his normal duties at the crossroads, the demon lords that had made it through the gate were meeting daily under the guise of planning their next move. Guise, because the meetings were mostly posturing between the ever dwindling number of demon lords left instead of actually getting anything done. Crowley had to give it to the brothers Winchester, they were turning out to be efficient exorcists.

On the rare occasion Crowley wasn't called away again after dinner, the pair spent their evenings in the parlor; Crowley with his Craig and John with his rotgut. It was almost companionable if one ignored that John was steely quiet and looking at his bottle of whiskey like it held the answers to all the questions he was too afraid to ask the demon, for fear of the favor he'd owe in return.

Crowley left him to it. Long as John was obedient and able to function, he really couldn't care less. At the moment the History channel was far more interesting than his pet anyway. Crowley's last stint in hell had been a long one, but was this really what passed for history in the modern era? “Really. Aliens responsible for the great pyramids? What bunch of morons thought that one up?”

The demon savored a sip of his Craig while absently scratching at the side of his head before continuing. “If that's all it takes to get a show on the telly, then I could make a killing selling those twats some grade A bullshit, with the artifacts to back it up. Even better, I could sell them the truth and they'd never believe it.”

His sniping earned him a snort from the peanut gallery. “Like anything that comes out of your mouth is the truth, monster,” John drawled, his voice rough from the whiskey.

“Tsk, tsk,” Crowley admonished while scratching the spot at his temple again. “That's a horrible thing to say about me, darling. We've been getting along so well, too. I'll have you know that nearly everything that comes out of my mouth is the truth. I'd say everything, but nobody's perfect.”

John let out another clipped off snort and took a long drag straight from his bottle. “Forgive me if I don't believe you. Never known demons to do anything other than lie through their teeth. Bet you even have a forked tongue.”

The demon laughed and raised his glass to the man in salute for a moment. “Almost a pity that it isn't, but I assure you my tongue _is_ more than talented enough to make up for it. Say the word and I'll give you a hands-on demonstration.”

His human was unamused and pointedly turned back to the television. Crowley chuckled at him and scratched at his head again. What was that blasted—oh _bollocks_.

“John, go upstairs and get out of sight.”

“NOW!” he barked when the human didn't move fast enough. Once the human was moving, Crowley ignored him in favor of peeking through the heavy curtains. He should have realized the moment it started that the damn itching was someone forcing their way through his wards, and now, because of his distraction, the offender was already at his front door.

Two sharp knocks to said door pulled Crowley away from the window. He let his senses wash over the property as he slowly walked from the parlor to the foyer. John, had for once followed his orders without question—for the most part, and was hiding away on the second landing where he would still be able to see whatever came through the door. As for what was awaiting him on his doorstep....

Crowley threw the door open and smiled brightly at the intruder who's arm was raised as if she were about to knock again.

“Ruby! How unexpected. I almost didn't recognize you in that attractive meatsuit you've found yourself.”

The blonde looked just as unamused as John did at most of his comments. “Crowley,” she growled. “Are you gonna let me in or are you gonna stand there and make smarmy comments all night?”

“Well, the _latter_ is tempting, but I'm sure you're here for a reason other than to listen to my sparkling wit, but we'd both rather get that over and done with so you can be on your merry way once again, yeah?”

There was no love lost between Crowley and Ruby. The younger demon was almost fanatically devoted to Lilith and Crowley was, well Crowley was the man that mouthed off, didn't follow orders, and was generally a pain in Lilith's ass yet still somehow the favorite. Ruby wanted the power he had and couldn't understand that no amount of boot licking would ever get her there. With a flourish, Crowley stepped aside so that she could enter then dramatically slammed the door closed behind her.

“Well, now you're inside. Let's get on with it, shall we? Why are you here, Ruby?” Crowley arched a brow at her, just short of tapping his foot with impatience.

Ruby crossed her arms defensively and arched her brow right back at him. “I'll be sure to tell Lilith how welcoming you are. Between the door slamming and your wards, you sure know how to make a girl feel at home, Crowley.”

“Lilith knows exactly how _welcoming_ I can be, darling,” the ancient demon purred as he turned and walked back into the parlor, knowing that Ruby would follow. He smiled to himself when he heard her annoyed huff and followed. She was so predictable.

“I'm here for the knife.”

“Which one? I have quite the collection, you know. There's some particularly nice ones in my dining set.” Crowley poured himself a drink and pointedly didn't offer Ruby one.

“The one that kills demons,” Ruby growled.

Crowley paused with his glass halfway to his mouth before lowering it and setting it down on the liquor cart. He gazed speculatively at the blonde woman for a moment before shrugging and crossing the room to the large armoire that was wedged in the corner at the front of the room. “Lilith must have some plan on, if she sent you after this,” he remarked casually as he rummaged through the large drawer. “Doing a little housekeeping?”

“Yes, starting with you,” Ruby growled as she moved to look over his shoulder. “Lilith wants me to infiltrate the Winchesters. That knife is gonna be my way in.”

“Infiltrate? Is that what they're calling it now? Explains the bombshell meatsuit at least. I hear those dear Winchester men have a weakness for blondes. This little toy is one you'll have to be careful with when things get kinky, darling. Wouldn't want the blade to slip and get yourself killed, now would we?” The knife in question was suspiciously plain and Crowley handed it over with little fanfare, Ruby's comments about killing him with it ignored.

Ruby sneered as she took the blade and looked it over as if she didn't believe that this was it. “Your concern about my welfare is touching, Crowley. Really. Be still my heart.”

“Now, let's not kid ourselves, Peaches. You have no heart. Now was that all you were needing? Perhaps there's something else around here that can kill me that I can hand over without so much as a thank you?”

His senses were still thrown wide, vigilant for anyone that might have come with Ruby, as well as monitoring his pet, who was unashamedly eavesdropping from the landing. Ruby hadn't seemed to notice the bound soul but it was hard for Crowley not to, with the slowly building anger that the man was giving off. Crowley needed Ruby gone before John forgot himself and stomped down to yell about whatever had set him off this time.

“That's it,” Ruby clipped, already heading for the door. She'd apparently had more than enough of Crowley and the feeling was mutual. “But I'll be sure to let you know if something else pops up,” she added with a cheeky smile over her shoulder.

“Darling, the only thing that pops up around you is a bad case of the clap. Please, let the door hit you on the way out, then think of me whenever you sit on the bruises!”

The door slammed in Ruby's wake, leaving Crowley chuckling by himself in the hallway. “All right Johnny-boy. You can come down and yell at me now, too.”

John was down the stairs in a flash. He crowded right into Crowley's personal space, his face turning red with the not so bottled up rage as he glowered down at the shorter man. “That was a demon!”

“Two points for observance,” Crowley drawled, unimpressed with his pet's ire. “If you get spit on my suit, you won't be able to sit properly for a week.”

John took a step back but didn't look any less angry. “That was a demon that said she was going to _infiltrate the Winchesters. My_ Winchesters. _My_ boys.And then you gave her a knife that kills demons to help her do it. A. Knife. That. Kills. Demons. Was right here in the goddamn parlor, not even locked up this entire time.”

“Makes you wish you'd actually looked around instead of lazed about on the couch for the past week, doesn't it?”

John's huff was his only answer, as the human flopped back down on the loveseat and reached for his bottle once again. Crowley followed and turned the television back on, as he sat back in his favorite chair. Really, John's moods were going to be the death of them both.

 

….

 

Crowley was in the library looking up seals of the Apocalypse, when the summons to the crossroads came. He barely spared John a glance before disappearing.

When his feet once again touched the ground he was in St. Louis.

“Hello, love,” he greeted the woman waiting for him. The terms of a deal nearly ten years up were etched into her skin bright like a beacon in the dim afternoon light. “If you're looking to get out of your deal Bela, I'm afraid I can't help.”

Bela startled at the sound of her name leaving the demon's mouth but quickly recovered herself. “Can't or won't?” she questioned archly. Bela Talbot was a feisty one, Crowley would give her that, but just because he liked her sass didn't mean that he wasn't going to collect what he was owed.

“Bit of both, really. See, you let one person go. The news gets out and then suddenly everyone wants a freebie. It's just bad for business. I'm sure an enterprising young woman such as yourself can appreciate that.” Crowley took a step forward and blatantly looked the woman up and down, making her take a small step back. He was far more interested in the terms of her deal than anything she had to physically offer, but she didn't need to know that.

“Then there has to be something. Anything that's worth more to you than my soul Whatever it is, I can get it for you. Let me buy my way out.”

The demon could almost appreciate what she was trying to do, but it wasn't anything he hadn't heard many times before. No matter how rich or powerful or good at stealing you were, when your deal was up, it was up and he had absolutely no respect for the sniveling twits that tried to get out of payment when payment was due.

“Sorry, pet. That contract of yours is absolutely binding. One killing of parents in exchange for one soul in ten years time. If you wanted to negotiate terms, you should have done it when you made the deal.”

“I didn't know what I was doing when I made that deal!” Bela snarled at him.

Crowley shook his head and moved in closer. “Don't sell yourself short. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly what you wanted. You've just gotten so confident in bucking the system that you thought you were going to do it to this one too, but Hell doesn't work that way darling. You got what you wanted and now it's time to pay up.”

“There's always a way out,” Bela insisted. “If you won't deal, then another demon will.”

It was almost enough to send Crowley into a fit of laughter. He rolled his eyes and took the girl by the chin. “Not this time, love. I'm as high up on the totem pole you're going to get and no lesser demon is going to have the bollocks to toy with a contract that has Lilith's name on it. Now, why don't you do us all a little favor,accept your fate with a little grace and stop wasting my time.”

The child, because that's what she was really, ripped her chin out of his light grip and staggered away from him. “Lilith. My contract has Lilith's name on it.”

Her entire demeanor changed as she latched on to that piece of information. Crowley could practically see the plan forming behind her eyes. Whatever the plan was, it wouldn't end well for her, but he'd warned her once and didn't like repeating himself.

“Yes, all of them do. She's kind of a big thing. I assume you're done with me now?”

Bela had already turned away and started for her nearby car, and didn't pay the demon she had summoned any further mind. She certainly wasn't winning any points for manners. Crowley snarled a bit in her direction, but returned home, foolishly thinking things would be how he left them. The library was empty when he reappeared, and that could mean nothing good.

Crowley found John in the parlor, sprawled out on the loveseat and surrounded by empty bottles of beer and one of Crowley's more expensive bottles of rye. The moment Crowley walked into the room he attempted to push himself up, but only made it about halfway before collapsing back into the soft cushion of the couch.

“Having fun keeping your little bitch entertained?” he slurred as he looked blearily in the demon's general direction. “Bet she's a tyrant to work for. If she's any kind of monster, she's probably got you by the balls and ready to make you eat them if you do anything to piss her off, huh?”

His annoyance with Bela paired with the anger that John's drunken tirade inspired lit a red hot ball of rage within Crowley.

“I wouldn't talk about someone having someone else by the balls if I were you, Johnny boy,” Crowley sneered, not even bothering to hide his disdain for the hunter's condition. If the demon didn't know better, he'd say John's little bout of binge drinking was a calculated attempt to piss him off. Particularly considering how he'd broken into Crowley's more expensive supply of very real alcohol. “That was what, two questions? I suppose I'll have to keep a tally for the moment since if I asked you to do so much as stand for payment, you'd be a danger to both of us.”

John swore softly as he reached down to adjust himself, heedless of his audience. “Can't say I feel sorry for you, having to appease that bitch. You creatures are all the same. Deserve to get knocked down a couple pegs. Though between the two of you, I'm not sure who's the bigger bitch. You're not exactly winning any awards for manliness. Maybe it's not that she's got you _by_ the balls, monster. Maybe she's just plain _got_ your balls.”

Crowley didn't appear to be any angrier than he had a moment before. He calmly sipped at his drink, not even addressing John as the lights in the house began to flicker. The bottle of rye that John had all but drained shattered and sent glass and the rest of the liquid spilling over John.

“Remember what I said about how _you_ really shouldn't be talking about who has whom by the balls, darling?”

A flick of Crowley's fingertips and John's body flew from the couch to slam against the wall, pinned nearly a foot off the ground by the demon's power. John moaned as Crowley turned away to pour himself another glass of scotch.

“We're all the same you say. You continue to call me monster, though I've been downright kind to you, all things considered? I've given you free run of my home, and what do you choose to do with the bit of freedom you _do_ have? Consume twice your weight in liquor and hurl insults at your host. If you really want a monster, I can give you that too. Generally this kind of thing isn't worth my bother, but it seems the universe is conspiring to really PISS ME OFF TODAY.”

John was glaring at him when Crowley turned back around, unable to do much more than snarl with the way the demon had him pinned against the wall. It seemed that a little pain had gone a long way to sobering up the man fast. Crowley wasn't done though, and he stalked closer to the man with a cruel curl to his lips.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself? What happened to that mouthy hunter, hm? Find yourself in a slightly familiar position? It happens.” Crowley had to drag the man slight back down the wall to look him straight in the eye. The movement made the human wince, but Crowley didn't stop until he was looking slightly down at the human.

“From what I hear, dear old Azazel was a bit fond of pinning people to the drywall. We could play that game. Fancy a trip up?” the demon stepped back again so he could send John back up closer to the ceiling. John was growling and struggling against Crowley's mental hold, but there was nothing the hunter to do against the demon that was playing with him like a yo-yo.

“Not really my style though,” Crowley whispered as if it were some great secret. “Think of the property damage! No, I think when I have you upright here, I'll go ahead and take my payment for that little question of yours earlier.”

John slid back down the wall until his face was level with Crowley's once again. The human attempted to spit in the monster's face but Crowley wrenched his head painfully to the side, wringing a choked gasp from between his lips. Crowley tutted and leaned forward to whisper directly in the man's ear.

“I really could have done with a good sucking off tonight, you know. We could have had a pleasant evening in. Too late for that I'm afraid. You're too far gone for me to feel comfortable with you anywhere near my bits, so you'll just have to service me in another way.”

Crowley began slowly undoing the buttons of John's shirt with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his glass of scotch. John's body was rigid, the stress of the situation causing his body to tremble. He couldn't fight and he couldn't run. He couldn't even seem to get his lips to work enough to throw a 'Christo' at the demon. Then, Crowley's hand slipped into John's chest and brushed _something_ that made all thought of fighting leave the hunter's mind. In fact, everything left the hunter's mind. There was nothing but the soul searing pain that had he have not been pinned to the wall would have made his body convulse and shake. It was almost worse because he couldn't move. He could only scream.

The demon gasped quietly, unheard beneath the sound of John's screams, as the energy hit him. What he was doing was taboo, so taboo that he'd never done it before. Souls were one of the best power sources in the universe, and accessing that power was dangerous. Crowley caressed that part of John, knowing full well he could kill the both of them. The cruel smirk that had graced his face softened until he looked almost happy. He was warm and full, and Crowley hadn't felt that way in a very long time. The feeling could become addicting, if he let it.

He was still smiling when he pulled away. John had gone silent, his lax body sliding down the wall to land in a heap at Crowley's feet. He was sucking air in with short strained gasps as he stared up at Crowley with wide terrified eyes. Crowley was too energized to care. He stared back down at the human with that gentle smile that was such a stark contrast to his torturous actions. After a moment, the energy within him calmed and Crowley knelt down next to his pet. “That really is quite the pathetic look on you, darling. Can you even speak around the bile in your throat?”

John was silent and Crowley chuckled. “No, I didn't think so.”

Crowley reached out and carded his fingertips through the man's hair, his smile regaining it's cruel edge when the man jerked back from his touch.

“Don't be that way, pet. This was a lesson you had to learn. I'm an extremely patient man, but I do have my limits, and when you press those limits, I will press back. It seems neither of us will like the end result because here you are about to be twitching in a puddle of your own filth and here I am with my nice little nightly schedule interrupted, having to clean up your mess.”

The human was still blinking at him like he didn't quite understand, and as powered up as Crowley was it didn't take much to channel his power slightly through his fingertips against John's scalp to clear some of the confusion in John's mind.

“I suggest you take some time to remember your position here darling.”

John's eyes cleared, but he looked no less terrified of the demon as he shrank back against the wall and startled at Crowley's gentle touches. His mouth tried to form words but the human seemed to be unable to speak. Crowley wondered for a moment, if he hadn't gone too far and broken the man, but John was nothing if not resilient and once the pain wasn't quite so fresh, he'd pull himself back together with a new determination. Just, perhaps with a bit more respect for his demon master.

Crowley stroked his hand through the graying hair one more time before standing. “Pull yourself together and get out of my sight. If you've managed to sober up by the morning then you'll clean up the bloody mess you made in here. If so much as one bottle that hasn't already fallen victim to your binges is touched, tonight will seem like a cake walk. You've lost that privilege, darling.”

He left the human then, instead walking to the liquor cart to pour himself a new drink. He could hear John huffing and attempting to pull himself up off the floor, though the demon refused to look at him.

“And don't think I won't know if you take so much as a drop. This won't happen again, pet. I take more than enough grief from the likes of Lilith and Alistair. That I had to take it from a human IN MY OWN HOME? Most would say that's unforgivable, but being the man that I am, I'm willing to give you your chance to earn my forgiveness. Don't disappoint me again, pet. If it's gotten through that thick skull of yours say, 'Yes Crowley' and get to it.”

There was a long pause as Crowley sat down in his winged back chair but finally the expected answer came. “Yes, Crowley.” John's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and broken. Crowley could hear the human as he shuffled from the room, wheezing as the torture Crowley had inflicted mixed with the earlier drunkenness made it nearly impossible for him to move. The foot steps dragged, one by one but John managed to pull himself from the room and to the stairs leaving the demon to his solitude.

 

 

 

 

In the end, he'd been right. Those that fought with Lucifer were banished to Hell even weaker than before. Hell was different than the Earth. Even the wastelands were beautiful in their way, but in Hell there was no beauty to be had. It wasn't just the scenery that made it so horrible. There was...something there, something that twinged at Samael's senses, made him itch. Made him angry. Whatever it was effected the other Fallen more than it did Samael. They tore at themselves; at their wings until there was nothing left but bloody stumps. Their own grace burned at them until they were nearly unrecognizable to the beings they were before. The corruption was turning them into something horrible.

Even worse was they wanted things. They all wanted things. Things such as answers that he couldn't give them. Samael didn't know why he wasn't as effected. He didn't know why he wasn't like the rest of them, wretchedly tearing at himself until there was nothing left. Ultimately, their fates were the same though the crimes that brought them to Hell were different. They were all banished from Heaven and then from Earth, but Samael was somehow remained resilient, and that enraged the Fallen.

The disgraced archangel wasn't Lucifer, wasn't his beautiful brother, and wasn't the one that had led them all to this ruin, but he was the one dealing with the fallout. Michael hadn't been lying when he promised Lucifer a fate worse than Hell. No one had actually witnessed just what had happened to Lucifer, but all the whispered rumors among the Fallen said the same thing. Caged, like the very beast he'd sought to take power from. Samael wanted no piece of it. Lilith was difficult enough to deal with on her own. His beloved was just as effected by Hell as the angels were. Perhaps even more so. It was all that Samael could to to keep her from ripping her own skin off. He'd sat with her for days, or what he thought were days, but his presence only seemed to enrage her further. Through it all the only word to pass her lips was his brother's name.

Samael couldn't take it. Lilith cried and begged for Lucifer all the while Samael could do nothing to comfort her. It was unbearable and it left the archangel aching for the solitude that had been so easy to find in Heaven. He just wanted a place, one where he could mourn privately all that he'd lost. The Fallen didn't understand that he was just as hurt as they were. All they could see was their anger at the one archangel they could find, the one that hadn't fought at their side. The one that was still whole.

Day in and day out it was the same thing until finally, Samael had enough. Abandoning Lilith to her pain, his spread his wings and flew. Navigating the pit they had been cast into was almost more perilous than it was worth, with updrafts at every turn that threatened to unbalance him and send him crashing. Before, he'd have laughed at such a collision, but now he was unsure if he could survive it. As stuttering and jilted as his flight was, it was still easy for Samael to outrun the horde of fallen angels once he took to the air.

He flew until his wings ached and could no longer hold him aloft. The world around him was almost pitch black as he landed. He was deeper into the pit than he'd ever been before. It was almost cold here, and Samael could feel the chill seep into him in a way he'd never experienced until now. It was almost painful in the same way that fire burned, and threatened to steal the very air from his lungs. He wrapped his wings around himself and hunkered down to try and conserve his warmth. There was something to his left, something large, and Samael couldn't seem to help but be drawn to it. Trying to focus his eyes on the structure was useless. It felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him, the shape bending and stretching as he edged closer and closer.

He was nearly upon it when the structure finally came into focus. A cage. It was a cage. The jagged stone bars continued on into the darkness, never ending, spaced so closely that Samael could barely fit a hand through let alone anything else. It was formed out of the same dark rock that was everywhere within the pit, but this, it shown slightly with power. Had he found the cage which the Fallen believed Lucifer to be sealed in? Samael examined the cage closer with a frown. No. This cage was not of Father's making, or even Michael's, though it was formed with the grace of an archangel. Now that he was looking, Samael could see Lucifer's markings all over the construct. Lucifer had boasted that he caged a mighty creature within the pit. The younger archangel had never doubted his brother's words but to actually see proof of the feat.

What kind of creature could Lucifer have bound that would have made him believe he could best Father?

Samael ran his hand along the bars as he slowly walked down the length. What was merely a damp chill while he stood at a distance was freezing when right next to the cage and Samael's body shook with it even with his wings tucked tightly. Nearly every instinct he had was telling him to move away and return to Lilith but his curiosity overpowered the churning in his gut and the angel stayed.

“So another angel, come to see the spectacle,” a weary voice growled from inside the cage. Samael jumped back from the bars, startled.

Eyes squinting, he looked back through the bars, seeing for the first time a pair of red eyes peering back at him. The space was too narrow and the cavern too dark for him to make out the figure beyond those dark sockets that seemed to burn and glow making them just distinguishable from the surrounding black. “What-what are you?”

“The last time I gave an angel my name, he bound me, locked me in this cage, and left me here to rot as he forces my brothers to do his bidding. I'll not be making that mistake again, you pitiful bird.” The eyes blinked slowly and the voice dripped with disdain.

Samael frowned deeply, considering the creature's words. It may not have shared it's name but the angry retort had told him as much as it had little. With the new knowledge he gained he was only left with even more questions. Lucifer had mentioned the caged creature, but not the brothers. If this one was bound here, then where were the others? How many were they? Where were they now? “Where did you come from before?”

“Such an inquisitive thing, this angel. You're different from the last one, but yet still the same. I will answer your questions, little angel, but only if you answer mine.”

He weighed his options. If Lucifer had caged this creature, rather than bound it to his will like he apparently had the others, there was likely a very good reason for it. Samael couldn't imagine that anything living in this pit for any amount of time could have a shred of goodness within it, not after seeing what mere weeks had wrought on the Fallen. Once proud angels were now nothing more than slaves to their anger. There was no doubt that this creature was dangerous but in the end, Samael's curiosity won out over his fear once more. There was something drawing him to this creature that he could not see.

“As you wish,” the angel agreed while doing his best to sound confident in his decision. “Answer my question first.”

“Which one? You've asked so many.”

Samael's feathers ruffled as his wings twitched showing his displeasure. “The first then. What is your name creature?”

The creature rumbled, seemingly as displeased at the repeated question as Samael had been at the stalling. “A deal is a deal,” he reminded it.

“So it is, little angel.,” the creature conceded. “My name is Death. Now it is your turn. Shall we finish the introductions then? What is your name little angel?”

Samael startled, hearing the creature's name. Death was not unheard of to the angel. He and his brothers were older than the angels; created before and sent away just as quickly. He would have to be careful, for this creature was indeed ancient and powerful, caged or not. How had Lucifer even managed it? “No, we shall not finish the introductions.” Samael replied slowly as he shifted slightly away from the bars. “You should not have asked two questions. Where did you roam before my brother caged you?”

To his surprise, Death laughed at Samael's admonishment. “There is something about you that I cannot quite identify. You play a hard game, little angel. Come closer to the bars.”

The angel frowned, wary of Death's purpose and demeanor, but did as he was bade. Pressed up against the jagged bars he could almost make out the shape of the contained being's face. It was pale and long, unlike anything the angel had ever observed before. “I do not understand. A hard what?”

Samael felt as much as he saw Death grin, the long face splitting open to reveal a row of jagged white teeth. “A hard game. You'll understand eventually. If you survive long enough. You shouldn't have asked two questions.” The deadpan tone was an exact echo of Samael's voice, so close a mimic that it made the angel shiver. “No games this time, tell me your name little angel. It's only fair since you have mine.”

“Samael,” the angel answered firmly. He was slowly becoming unafraid of the strange being called Death. The longer he spent in the other's presence, despite the caustic nature of their conversation, the more at ease Samael felt. In a way it was almost like being in the presence of his father once again. He did not know how, but Death was easing hurts within him that Samael had not even realized existed.

“There now, we can converse like civilized heathens. It is your turn, Samael.”

“Why has my brother bound you here?”

The eyes disappeared from view and the silence lingered long enough for the angel to begin to believe that Death had tired of their game and left him. Samael started to edge back from the cage once again when long pale, skeletal fingers brushed against him as they wrapped around the bars and the smoldering eyes returned. “He caged me because he cannot control me. I am Death. I bow to no angel, and to no God. I existed while both were still dust and will continue to do so long after they will return to it. And because I would not do his bidding, he chained me here, slowly weakening me until the day when I am so weak that he will be able to rule me against my will.” Death brushed so close to the bars that Samael could feel it's breath, startlingly hot compared to the cold the being seemed to emanate. “Now my next question to you little angel, is what is it you want most?”

Samael blinked, startled at the change of subject. “I..I would wish to return to my home. To Heaven. For my father to forgive me?”

Death chuckled, a dry rasping sound. “Is that your next question?”

“Is that yours?”

The creature beyond the bars laughed again. “Oh yes, I do like you. The time for games is over Samael, and I have an offer to make you. I cannot make your father forgive you, nor can I give you admittance into Heaven. You are an angel, built to obey a master. You feel that loss, do you not? Like a dark pit about to swallow you whole. Without someone to order you, you flounder.”

Samael's head tilted to the side as he considered Death's words. Nothing the creature said was untrue, but he was hesitant. Despite his current situation, his final conversation with Father had given him an odd sort of hope that he would be redeemed. If he sold himself into Death's service to fill the void now, would he still be given that chance?

“So you wish to become the one that controls me? To what end?”

The angel could see, this close as Death's grin grew impossibly large, obviously having little doubt that he'd snared the angel in his trap. “I will not lie to you. I wish to be free and need you to work to that end. The path will not be easy. It will be long with very little glory. I want my freedom, Samael, and Lucifer is the only one who might free me. To do that we shall have to free him.”

“Free Lucifer? Why in my Father's name would I want to do that? Your promise is pretty, Death, but I rather enjoy the thought of having my brother exactly where he is. You cannot give me what it is I really want, I and will not give you what you want.. Our business is done, creature. Enjoy your cage.”

Death roared as Samael stepped back from the cage. The clawed fingertips stretched as far as they could, attempting to stop the angel's retreat even though Samael was already out of reach.

“Wait angel! In return for my freedom I will give you the structure and order you need now, and when I am able, I shall give you the power you need to stand on your own. Right now you may think that returning to your master's side will make you happy, but I can see it within you. Returning to that servitude will never make you feel whole. I can give you what you really need. I will fill that void of yours forever and you will never have to take an order from another again.”

Samael paused, his back to the bars as he listened to Death's bargain. That kind of freedom sounded almost too good to be true. If he agreed, would he finally be free of the jagged pit that settled in his stomach the moment he'd taken Lilith's hand? Would he be able to love her without guilt? He turned around slowly to face the cage once again.

“Very well. I will listen, but only because I have no wish to return to the Fallen. Sell me your deal, Death.”

Sell the deal, Death did, spinning a tale and laying down instructions that would take thousands of years to come to fruition, as Samael listened with a dawning horror. There was a master plan, woven right into the tapestry of his Father's plans seamlessly. Things that were already meant to happen, but would need just the right amount of tweaking to end favorably for Death, and now for Samael. He would have to do things that horrified him; things that were far more damning than falling in love with Lilith had ever been.

But he would do them. He would do them for Lilith, and more importantly he would do them for himself. The more Death talked, the more Samael realized that the creature's words were very true. He didn't want to go back to Heaven. Samael didn't want to be a slave anymore. If this was how he got his freedom, then so be it.

When he'd entered the clearing he'd still thought himself an Angel of the Lord, but now, in leaving it to carry out the first of his duties, he knew he was an Angel of Death.

 

 

 

 

Crowley stepped into the home without fanfare, handing his coat to the trembling human that had opened the door for him. The entire family was gathered, staring at him with wide eyes but not commenting for fear of the diminutive figure on the stairs.

“Crowley!” Lilith's childish voice rang out as she skipped down the stairs to throw her arms around him. Well as much as she could reach of him anyway. “You've finally come to visit me! I was worried about you. Come upstairs. You _have_ to meet everyone. We're having tea!”

The mother looked like she wanted to protest her daughter going anywhere with the strange well-dressed man but swallowed the objection when Lilith turned a benevolent gaze in her direction. “You'll bring us cake, won't you mommy? I want chocolate!”

“O-of course sweetheart. Why don't you and your new...friend go play while I finish icing it for you, okay?”

“Okay! Come on Crowley, you old crow.” The young girl took off again, leaving her husband staring after her.

After a moment he shot the still fretting mother a bright smile. “Don't worry, darling. I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole.”

Why Lilith had to keep picking children with families to possess, he would never know. It made everything so..messy. If he had his pick of any meatsuit in all of humanity, it sure as hell wouldn't be a little girl. Though she did get points for cheerfully creepy. The girl's room was chintzy enough to make him gag upon entrance. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this family deserved to have to put up with Lilith if they'd put their little girl through this bit of hell.

“Sit!” the demoness chirped and gestured to one of the child sized chairs at the tea table under the window.

Crowley raised a brow. “No, Lilith. Absolutely not. I was willing to play along for the idiots downstairs but this is absolutely---”

“SIT.”

With an audible groan, Crowley squeezed himself into the small chair. He could only be thankful that there was no one else around to witness his humiliation. Lilith wasn't like this in Hell, and he had no idea what it was about being on earth that made her go batshit.

“There I'm sitting. And I'm here, did you want to hear my report or are we going to stare at each other for the duration?”

“Now now, Mr. Crowley. There's no need to be rude! This is Mrs. Nesbit and Mr. Ivers. They're joining us for tea today! Mrs. Nesbit, Mr. Ivers, this is Mr. Crowley. He's my husband, but he's not a very good one. He has some news for us, so I'll pour the tea while he talks, shall I?” Lilith shut the bedroom door and practically skipped to the table as she made the introductions to her dolls. When Crowley didn't immediately start speaking she growled and shot him a look. “Well, don't keep them waiting! You're horrible at entertaining company.”

“I'm ever so sorry, darling,” the demon ground out, reminding himself cheerfully that if everything went to plan Lilith would be dead in two years or less, depending if Alistair actually manged to break the Winchester boy, and what was two years compared to the amount of time he'd already spent dealing with her? “So far, things are going exactly as planned.....”

It was three hours before he managed to escape his former lover's grasp, complete with foil covered chocolate cake on a paper plate that she insisted he take home with him.

 

….

 

Crowley was met with silence when he finally reappeared in the mansion, after escaping Lilith's clutches. If it wasn't for the little issue of hunting him down if he didn't show up, he wouldn't bother suffering through the humiliation of their little meetings at all. He dropped the cake that had been forced on him in the kitchen before going in search of his pet. If John wasn't in the kitchen, then he was likely still in the library, toiling away at his continued punishment over the last incident.

The library table was covered in books and papers as John paced back and forth across the length of the room nervously.

“Awfully big mess for someone that supposedly is cleaning up,” Crowley remarked with his eyes wandering over the open research then to the human. While John might not have been doing the job that Crowley instructed him to, it was clear that he had been busy.

John jumped the froze at the sound of Crowley's voice. He licked his lips before speaking, a slightly sheepish expression crossing his face. “I..uh..got a bit side tracked.”

While John had been a bit hesitant after their..altercation over his attitude, this nervousness was a bit new. Crowley prided himself on being able to read a human like a grade school primer, but the series of emotions on the hunter's face was a confusing one. The nervousness was obvious, as was the normal bit of fear, but when the demon looked beyond the obvious there was hope and... awe?

“So I can see,” Crowley drawled slowly, as he tore his gaze back from the human to focus on the messy table. It was far more likely to give him answers about John's odd mood.

“I..I have a question.”

Crowley barely heard the man's words as his eyes narrowed on the large tome in the center of the table. Groland's Compendium was spread open to an entry that Crowley knew very well. Now things were making sense. Slowly, his lips curled into a smirk as he turned his dark eyes back on John. All John had needed was a little push to remind him that while yes, he was dead and captured, he was still a hunter and not entirely aimless.

“Well, you know the price for asking. Don't keep me in suspense.”

John took a deep breath and licked his lips. “Are you an angel?”

The question lingered in the air. The more time that passed the more confident John looked.

Crowley raised a brow at the man's smirk. “So sure of yourself. But you really need a better pick up line. That one's a bit dated.”

“You're hedging,” John pointed out. “And you wouldn't do that unless you didn't want to answer, and the only reason you wouldn't want to answer is if it were true. Come on, monster. You're the one that made the rules of our game. I'm prepared to pay for my answer, but you have to give it to me first.”

Oh, he would make the human pay for that one. Game or not, Crowley didn't have to do anything and apparently John needed a little reminder of that. In the spirit of needing to show his pet who's boss, Crowley didn't answer the question verbally. Instead, he stretched out his senses to make sure they were truly alone on the property before letting the power that kept his wings bound and hidden go. He could only chance it for a brief moment. The power would surely attract attention he didn't want.

It wasn't slow. It wasn't a gradual fading in. The lights in the room flickered then blew, the only light in the room appearing to come from Crowley himself. Shadows that cast red appeared on the walls. They seemed to stretch and move of their own accord with nothing physically there to cast them. Crowley could see the exact moment that it dawned on John what he was seeing; the realization that Crowley had answered the human's question in a far more powerful way than words ever could. Stretched out on the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were three distinct pairs of wings.

The sheer amount of heavy power in the room pushed John to his knees. He opened his mouth and at first nothing came out, but he tried again and though the word was barely more than a toneless rasp, Crowley heard it clear as day.

“Archangel.”

And then the power was gone.

Crowley repaired the lights in the library with a wave of his hand though his eyes never left the kneeling human that was watching him with rapt fascination. "You're very smart pet. Though I suppose I've not exactly been hiding it, and why should I, in my own home? Don't get too excited. I haven't been welcome in the club house for a very long time.”

John slowly regained his feet, still staring at Crowley like he was all that was good and lovely in the world, and that was beginning to chafe. Crowley might have had angelic beginnings, but he was very much so a demon now, and the man would be wise to remember that. “Sit,” he ordered. He would have really rathered they do this over a meal, but there was nothing for it.

That John did so without question was more annoying than it should have been. _Now_ the human was choosing to obey him. “Just because you've figured out one of my many secrets doesn't mean that anything has changed. Even when I was singing in the choir I wasn't exactly in tune, so get any delusions you're having, about my stellar personality being a smokescreen for some fluffy gooey center, right out of that melon of yours.”

When his ranting did nothing to decrease the human's awe, Crowley slammed his hands down on the table hard enough to make the wood splinter. It was only then, in the face of his master's anger that John remembered himself, and remembered that angel or demon, he had a very reason to be afraid of the creature that owned his soul. The man's face finally returned to the more familiar grim expression that Crowley knew and tolerated just about as much as everything else the man did, which was very little.

“It's just,” John began, his voice low and measured. “I know you told me, months ago that angels were real, but hearing and seeing are two different things. I never believed, but Mary, she always said that angels were watching over us. Christ, I never believed her, but here you are.”

The man's eyes had drifted down to the cracked table as he spoke of his dead wife, but suddenly they flew up to fixate on Crowley's. “Do you know if--”

“Stop right there,” Crowley interrupted before the man could ask his question. Crowley knew where the man was going and he didn't want to go there. “You still have a debt to pay for your last question.”

John blinked at him, confused and practically salivating with all the questions he wanted to ask. Crowley had never stopped him to pay up between questions before. He always just let them wrack up to worsen the punishment. It was within Crowley's right, though.

“Fair enough.”

“In return for forcibly outing me, you don't get to ask another question until,” Crowley trailed off and his eyes narrowed as he thought up a limit. “Until you learn my true name—and you can only ask me to confirm it once, so no making a bloody list and asking me them all.”

It was a win-win really. The task would keep John from asking anything from him for a while, but not too long. There were only so many fallen archangel's after all, and it was fairly obvious that Crowley wasn't Lucifer himself.

Still, John looked ready to protest but thought better of it when Crowley shot him a look that promised the worst pain he could imagine and then some. The hunter wasn't willing to chance that particular brand of torture again and sighed. “Yes, Crowley.”

“Wonderful! Glad we could get that out of the way. Now we can go back to our regularly scheduled evening, which would put us at past time for dinner. You best get to it. All this emotional turmoil has worked up quite the appetite.” Crowley took two steps toward the kitchen when the pull of a crossroads summon came. He didn't want to leave the man, not after the conversation they just had. There was no telling the kind of ideas John would get when he was gone, but a summon was a summon. “Bollocks. Start dinner. I'll be back.”

 

….

 

The crossroads he was summoned to was a remote one. Corn fields as far as the eye could see with a single street lamp illuminating where the two roads met. Dramatic, yes, but not exactly what he was expecting from this particular customer. He knew from the very moment he arrived who had summoned him. Again.

“Bela, darling. I thought I told you to stop wasting my time. 

The woman in question glared at him. She really was adorable. “You're not Lilith.” she cut to the chase, desperation audible in her voice.

“Of course I'm not. Why would Lilith be lurking around in a crossroads at...” Crowley paused to check his watch. “...2:34 in the bloody morning?”

“Lilith was supposed to show,” Bela insisted. “I did everything right!”

Crowley rolled his eyes and kicked at a pebble. “You can't always trust those summoning spells, pet. Lilith's a... classy lady. There's no spell powerful enough to bring her to a crossroads. Let me guess. You thought if you named her she would come? Amateur.”

Bela was enraged but obviously trying to hide it. Crowley smiled at her even as she growled at him. “Fine. You wouldn't deal with me before but maybe you will now.” Her sentence was punctuated with the click of a gun's safety. “This is The Colt,” she drawled sounding utterly smug. “You know, gun that can kill anything. I don't want to die, and if you don't either, then you'll free me from my contract.”

Crowley stared down the barrel of the gun that was not inches from his face. “Well, sweetness. You certainly have stones, I'll give you that.” The demon clapped his hands slowly as his face showed just how unimpressed he was. Bela's finger didn't even have time to twitch before he disappeared and reappeared behind her. “But that's only useful if you can actually hit me with it.”

Crowley reached out, curling his fingers around Bela's wrist and forcibly lowering her arm. She fought him, of course she did, but Crowley was stronger than he looked. “There. That's better. I tend to get cranky when people point things at me. Personal preference, you know. Now, I'm not sure why you thought your little toy was going to change things, but it's obvious that you're not just going to go quietly into the night like a good little pain in my arse.”

Bela jerked in his hold, attempting to take the gun in her free hand. Suddenly the metal grew red hot forcing her to drop the gun. “Shit,” she cursed, whirling to glare at him.

“For such a smooth operator you really suck at this whole working with demons thing, darling. Now, I know it will be hard for you, but let's talk like a couple of rational adults, shall we?” Crowley released Bela and pushed her away. “The gun stays were it is.”

Crowley wasn't entirely sure if the gun could hurt him at all, but he wasn't about to take that chance. That didn't mean that he was about to let it go. “Despite your best intentions, I am in a bit of a negotiating mood tonight. No! Don't open your mouth. It's time for you to sit and listen.”

Bela's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Her eyes trailed back and forth between the demon and the gun but slowly she nodded and her eyes stayed on Crowley. Negotiation was what she wanted.

The demon looked pleased as he edged the gun a little farther away from Bela with the toe of his shoe. “Excellent. Now, let's recap shall we? Bela was a bad little girl and made a deal with a demon now she doesn't want to pay up. I've told you before there's no 'not paying up' love. You don't seem to want to listen to me, and who am I to know better? I'm only the King of the Bloody Crossroads. I don't know anything at all, obviously.” Crowley's tone was absolutely scathing as he stepped between Bela and the Colt, crowding back into her personal space.

“But you said you were willing to negotiate,” Bela reminded him as she stubbornly stood her ground.

Crowley smiled. “I did, didn't I? See, you're trying for the wrong deal. There's no getting you out of going to hell. That's inevitable, you need to accept it. What you should be trying to bargain for is what happens to your soul once you make it to the pit.”

His grin only widened at the startled expression on the human's face. “That's right, pet. Accept the things you cannot change, and change the things you can. Hell's not created equal. Right now you're on a one way trip to the Rack itself. Chains, pain, getting to see your own entrails on a regular basis, you know, the works. It's like every nightmare you've ever had rolled into one. Cheer up! Here's my deal. I get to keep that shiny little toy you brought to try and pop off Lilith, and instead of getting hung up by your thumbs you get to enter a little...training program I've devised.”

Bela blinked slowly at him as she took all of what he'd said in. He'd confirmed all her fears as he casually painted a picture of hell that was nowhere near as horrifying as the reality. “What kind of training program?”

“You see, that's the right kind of question. You can learn. That's comforting. I might have mentioned I'm the King of the Crossroads, and I'm always recruiting for the cause. As much as you annoy the piss out of me, you're smart. You're shrewd. I could use a bit more of that in my ranks.” Crowley cocked a brow at the woman. “Look, pet. You're going to die. This really is the best deal you're going to get. It's more than fair.”

Bela looked conflicted as she finally took a step away from the demon.

“You summoned me at a bad time. I really have to be getting back so, going once. Going tw--”

“I'll take it.” She looked like she had swallowed something unpleasant, but when her eyes once again met Crowley's she was determined.

“Excellent,” Crowley stepped back into her personal space and pressed his lips to hers before she could dither about her decision. Humans couldn't see the magic involved in sealing the deal, but as Crowley stepped back and scooped up his newest acquisition, he could see the new script winding it's way about Bela's body before settling. The Colt was heavy in his hand, and as expected fully loaded. Bringing something into the house that could possibly kill him with John acting he way he was wasn't the safest of things to do, but having it around would be worth the risk. The human seemed awed by his little discovery for the time being, but soon enough he'd realize Crowley was the same demon he'd been living with since Hell, fallen angel or not.

“So now what? I just wait to die?”

Crowley slipped the Colt inside his jacket as he turned back to Bela. He'd wrapped her arms around her torso as she looked at him with weary resignation. “That's exactly what you do. Cheer up, sweet cheeks. You're about to start the business venture of a lifetime.”

He left her then. Their business was concluded and just holding the Colt was making him itch. He'd have to find a place for it in the basement, nice and tucked out of the way. All things considered, it hadn't been too horrible of a day. He'd gained a promising new employee, a gun that was rumored to kill anything, and John would be waiting for him at home with dinner. Sometimes, it really was the little things.

 

 

 

  
 

 

Samael was equally parts terrified and exhilarated. Part of him still expected to be struck down at any moment. Well, more like all of him. What he'd just done-- it was beyond any act of rebellion he could have ever pondered on his own. If Father had been upset with him before, surely he must be furious with his fallen child now. Despite the fear, the child in question also felt unbelievably smug. What he'd just done would change...everything. Father's beloved creatures had disobeyed his order, they'd brought sin into the garden, and Samael had shown them the way.

Samael was nearing the edge of the Garden in his stolen body when he felt the presence of one of his brothers behind him. This wasn't one of the Fallen, not here in the Garden. They hadn't yet discovered how to leave Hell's confines. No this was one of the faithful. Samael's body coiled around itself tense and waiting for an attack that didn't come.

“I can't talk to you like that. Face me, Samael.”

Ah, Gabriel. That explained the lack of smiting first, asking no questions later. The snake's body had served it's purpose anyway and the banished angel let the physical form dissolve around around him. It was a relief, no longer being contained in the animal's form, and Samael let his wings stretch wide, putting on a show for his brother. Samael wasn't about to go down without a fight. Gabriel was one of his more... level-headed brothers, and perhaps they'd be able to reach an agreement, no smiting needed.

Gabriel stood before him looking far more human than the last time they'd met. If it weren't for the fact that his brother was so luminous it nearly hurt to look at him, Samael thought he could nearly pass for one of the mud-monkeys. The two angels stared at each other for a moment before Gabriel broke down, with his eyes pleading for Samael to have a good explanation.

“Brother, what have you done? Was it not enough that you were banished?”

Samael hardened himself against his brother's melancholy. Of all his brothers and sisters, Gabriel was the least offensive of the lot. In heaven, Samael often preferred to keep to himself, but somehow he'd never been able to deny Gabriel his company. “I did what I had to. I don't expect you to understand that.”

“You're right,” Gabriel deadpanned. “I don't understand it, but it seems that there is much I don't understand that is happening”

Even Samael had to admit that seeing the normally cheerful angel so bitter was heartbreaking. “To tell you the truth, I don't understand it all either. A great many things have happened so quickly.”

The younger angel nodded, his forlorn expression morphing into something more resolute. “Michael sent me here to kill you, but I have to admit, even knowing what you've done, I do not wish to do so. So many of us have died already.”

Samael blinked, his head tilting to the side as he took in Gabriel's words. “Michael sent you? Not father?”

The sad eyes were back and Gabriel's gaze dropped to the ground. “Father has been growing quiet as of late. Since he sent Michael to cage Lucifer.” Suddenly there were tears welling in the others' eyes and Gabriel looked as if he wanted to fold in upon himself. “It is not the same anymore! I hate it!”

Samael blinked again at the strong language coming from his brother, in regards to heaven. Perhaps he would be escaping the garden without a fight. Already the idea was taking root in his mind. “Maybe you should leave, then,” he suggested carefully.

Gabriel looked livid at the thought of it. “No I'm not like you! I'm loyal! I refuse to fall.”

Samael flinched in the face of his younger brother's anger. The leaking grace burned red hot where it licked at his skin and the banished angel began to fear that Gabriel would accidentally kill him in his sudden rage.

“Peace, brother,” Samael cried, his hands raised in surrender. “No one said you had to fall. No one said that you were not loyal. I know you love father and our brothers and sisters. More than most! You were the best of us. Still are. I was merely suggesting a vacation of sorts? Heaven is draining you. Whatever you think of my loyalty, it still pains me to see you so desolate.”

The younger angel had calmed slowly during Samael's entreaty and was now looking at his brother with disbelieving eyes. The angel could not seem to fathom that Samael could still care about him, not after all the things that Samael had done.

“Even now I cannot lie any more than you can. You know this to be true, Gabriel. I still have to play by the same rules,” Samael reassured the other, once again moving closer to his brother.

“I do,” Gabriel said finally. “Where would I even go on this 'vacation?' Earth?

“Why not?” Samael shrugged. “Go on a tour of Father's greatest creation until things calm down upstairs. Surely no one would be able to find fault in you enjoying Father's work a little.”

Gabriel appeared to be considering it but slowly began to frown, shaking his head. “No. I may not like the state of things, but I will not abandon my family. Father needs me. Now more than ever. Michael is distant, colder.”

“Are there not three other archangels to keep Father company? The burden should not be on you and Michael alone.”

“There are. But they cannot make Father smile, not the way I do.”

The statement was absolute and Samael knew there would be no more arguing with it. For some reason it saddened him knowing that the only brother he could tolerate was stuck in the situation that Samael had helped create. He'd thought that he was beyond such emotions particularly when they were concerning an angel that could return to heaven. According to Death, the only things Samael should be feeling in regards to Gabriel were hatred and maybe jealousy. Samael should want to fight; want to kill his brother on the principle of it alone. He didn't, however, and that was genuinely confusing.

But now Gabriel's sword was in hand and that resolute expression was back. “Wait!” Samael cautioned again. “You said that you did not wish to kill me and I have no swish to fight you. Please, Gabriel.”

“You have brought sin into the Garden, Samael! I was given the order to kill you. What I want doesn't matter.”

“By Michael! Not by Father. Just hear me out. Send me back to hell if you must. I'll even show you the hole I made so you can seal it behind me. Spare my life now, and someday when you have need of me again, I will come to your aid. No matter the task, no questions asked. I know you might not believe me but I firmly believe that things will only get worse from here on out. One day you may change your mind about getting out, one day you might need someone in your corer, and when you do you'll have my aid. It will be a very long time before things are right in heaven once again. So long that neither of us might live to see it. Mark my words.” Samael took a deep breath as he finished, half believing that Gabriel would turn him down and attack.

The tension was so thick that Samel's fingers were itching to draw his own blade, but then suddenly Gabriel was smiling and the tension was gone. “You'd talk your way back into Heaven if Father would face you.”

“Don't I wish it,” Samael muttered truthfully. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for the chance to return home. His gaze on his brother turned hopeful. “Does this mean that you'll accept my deal?”

Gabriel's demeanor was mournful but he nodded slowly, his blue eyes locked with Samael's own. “I can't kill you, brother. Returning you to the pit will have to suffice. Father will understand. Michael will not.

Samael returned his younger brother's nod, acknowledging what Gabriel was risking by accepting. At least it wouldn't be the first time the two of them had angered Michael. It would be the first time Gabriel would have to face that anger alone. “I do so swear upon the grace my Father bestowed upon me that in return for your mercy, you only need call for my aid and I will come leaving my full power under your command.” It was a heady oath. The banished angel knew he was giving Gabriel a huge amount of power over him, but leaving without having to fight the other angel would be worth it. Samael was fairly certain the form his returned favor would take since he already planted the seed in Gabriel's mind. It was just a question of time.

Gabriel's grace flared joining Samael's own as he completed the ritual. “Your oath is witnessed.”

By the time the joined grace dissipated the two angels were breathless yet smiling. “There has to be a less wordy way of doing that,“ Samael drawled, nearly giddy with relief.

Gabriel chuckled in return. “If there is, I'm sure you will find it. Enough time has passed, much longer and another will come looking for me. Show me this crack of yours so that the both of us may return home before you really do end up with a fight on your hands.”

Samael sobered at that thought. “I can never return home.”

“Samael...I...” Gabriel paled as he realized what he'd said. Instantly that too sad expression was back on his brother's face and Samael turned, walking in the direction of the fissure rather than face it. It was barely any distance at all, the banished angel had been so close to escaping without issue. Together they looked down upon the hole, barely big enough for an angel to fit through. Samael would have to fit through it once again. Returning this way was far better than his only options.

The two angels stood an arm's length apart as they realized that this was it again. They'd never been the closest of brothers, but they were still family and the separation was painful. “Why?” Gabriel asked suddenly, nearly driven to tears. “Why did you go against Father? Why did you lay with the woman?”

Samael shrugged, taking a step closer to his portal back to the pit. “I loved her. Goodbye Gabriel. I'll look forward to hearing from you.” The banished angel retreated into the hole even as Gabriel reached out to stop him. He should be ecstatic. Samael had accomplished so much that day by seducing Eve and watching her taste the Forbidden Fruit. Things were going exactly to the plan that Death had given him, and he should be pleased.

All it took was one question and it was as if he'd just been cast into the pit for the first time all over again.

 

 

 

  
 

 

It was in the early hours of the morning that Crowley let himself into the basement. The little-used room was the one best suited for his purposes-- easy to clean, and a place John didn't regularly wander. Things were finally beginning to settle between them. It was little more than an uneasy truce brought about John's fear, but it was still a small progression towards a happy ordered home and Crowley would take what he could get.

Unfortunately, John was just about done with his task of ordering the library, and that meant that he would once again have far too much free time on his hands. Crowley didn't want a repeat of their first few months together, so he was taking one very large precaution.

It was time to summon up a pet for John. Hellhounds generally weren't found topside, unless for a hunt, but the demons didn't call Crowley the Houndmaster for nothing. There was no one alive or dead that knew as much about the hounds as he. After all, he created them. Summoning one up was pretty simple compared to that. He had just the hound in mind.

Under normal circumstances, Crowley would have picked a puppy, but John liked to push boundaries and even while small, a hellhound puppy was more than capable of mauling the bound soul. The only option was a trained hound, and while Growley's size alone would likely terrify the human, Crowley's favorite alpha really was the best suited for life with John.

After one last flourish of his brush, Crowley stepped back to admire his work. His summoning circle was perfect, as always, and now all it would take was a little blood with the right words. Crowley knelt down in the middle of the circle and took a penknife to his wrist. John would be up soon and the demon wanted his surprise to be waiting for him.

Three hours later, John looked surprised to find Crowley sitting at the kitchen table causally eating a chocolate cake for breakfast. He looked the demon over suspiciously before skirting around him to get the juice he preferred, since he was no longer allowed to have whiskey for breakfast.

"Uh, morning."

“Good morning, darling,” Crowley replied, around a mouthful of cake.

Almost on cue there was a low growl from the basement door that was followed by a hinge-shaking thud that made John nearly drop the juice, as he jumped to attention and reached for a weapon that wasn't there.

“What in the hell was that?”

“A present for you, since you've been such a good boy.” Crowley couldn't help but chuckle at the bewildered look on the human's face. “And for payment of your question, you have to let him in.”

“Him?” The suspicious look was back as John edged closer to the door. Scratching and whining could still be heard from beyond the wood. “Not sure I want any gift from you. There's always strings attached.”

Crowley rolled his eyes as he speared another piece of cake. “Don't say that. I might get a complex. Besides, you've enjoyed both your collar and your toy box well enough. Don't even bother denying it.”

John didn't deign a reply, but instead slowly reached out to turn the door handle. For a breath of time everything was still, then the door flew open and John was on his back with nearly five hundred pounds of hellhound pinning him to the tile. Crowley laughed at the man's panicked yelp and turned so that he could better see his pets' introduction. The human was ashen as he struggled against the large animal to absolutely no avail. Growley huffed a hot breath right into the man's face then lowered his head to sniff at John's neck. John went stock still when the creature's teeth neared his flesh, his eyes pleading up at Crowley to do _something._

“Oh calm down, hunter. He's not going to hurt you. He's just learning your scent.” Crowley put his fork down to steal some of John's juice for himself. “Growley, get his scent then get off, hm? That's no way to properly introduce yourself.” Despite the chiding words, Crowley's tone was still clearly amused.

Growley took one deep sniff then moved off the man, as ordered, and came to sit down next to Crowley's stool. Crowley gave the scaled head a fond pat while he watched John jump up and scramble across the room as if he were on fire.

“That's...that's a hellhound,” the human stammered, looking about two seconds from diving for one of the kitchen knives to defend himself with.

“Well spotted. We'll make a hunter out of you yet,” Crowley drawled. “No need to look so terrified. Growley's my best pupil. He might not be tame, but he is trained. He won't attack you without command. He's here to keep you company since I stay so busy.”

John looked skeptical at best. “You summoned a hellhound to keep me company.” It was very carefully not a question; fear no longer clouding the man's mind.

“Aren't I thoughtful?”

“Yeah, that's a word for it,” John grumbled, stealing his juice back as he gave the hellhound a baleful look. He was still tense, but Crowley was sure he'd relax once he became used to the hound's presence. After all, weren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend?

 

….

 

Crowley sat in his favorite chair as he idly watched the clock tick. It was almost hard to believe that a year had passed since he approached John with a deal in Hell. Time certainly flew when one was having fun. Over the year, they'd managed to find an odd sort of peace that mostly consisted of John breaking rules and getting punished for it then keeping scarce for the next few weeks, or until he desired Crowley's attention.. The incidents became further apart in recent months; though if that were merely because Crowley had been busier, or if John was actually learning and coming to terms with things, was yet to be seen. At least there were no more odd requests to see his wings.

The peace wouldn't last much longer, however. While the demon never lied to his pet, he wasn't exactly forthcoming either. He generally preferred to wait for the man to ask so that he could extract payment. That meant that they were yet to broach the upcoming Apocalypse, Crowley's place in it, or the fact that John's eldest had sold his soul.

Now they were down to the wire, and in an hour's time Crowley would have to release the hounds and oversee the collection of the deal. After the..situation with John, Lilith wanted there to be no room for errors. It was almost a pity that he'd be back to square one with the man but the demon couldn't bring himself to regret a damn thing. This was the first step in finally being able to collect on his oldest deal.

Eleven that evening still found the pair sitting quietly in the parlor, Crowley in his chair and John at his feet like the good little pet that he was. The demon idly ran a hand through the human's coarse hair, enjoying the feel and the lack of fight over the touch from John while it lasted. The hunter was tense, reacting to the silence that weighed the room down. On a normal night Crowley would have music on or a documentary playing, but this wasn't a normal night. It wasn't every night that the King of the Crossroads oversaw a collection himself.

At eleven-thirty Crowley ran his fingers through John's hair one last time and stood. Across the room Growley jumped to his feet, his nubby tail wagging excitedly. Crowley sent the hellhound a look that had the animal whining and John paying attention.

“Not tonight, boy. I'll need you here to watch John. Make sure that he isn't any more of an idiot than usual.

John had damn near spoiled the dog. It whined at Crowley again before flopping down in front of the fireplace like a petulant teenager. Crowley's second pet wasn't so easily put off, as he too found his feet and leveled a questioning glare at his master. “What the hell is that about?”

Crowley smiled and taunted the man. “That's question number one, John. Starting early? You've spoiled him. The dog is sulking because it won't be running with the pack tonight.”

The demon's constant comments about idiocy aside, John would still be fiercely intelligent when he wasn't too busy attempting to drink himself into a coma and rarely had an issue putting two and to together. It was one of the reasons that Crowley found the damned soul to be almost passable company. He'd never been one to suffer stupidity in his companions.

“Wait. You're going out to collect on a deal. You. Yourself, suit and all with no complaints about getting dirty. I thought that's what you had underlings for.”

The glare was full force now as John continued putting together all the little hints that Crowley had dropped him over the year. Crowley gave him the time he needed, waiting as always for the man to ask him outright. The emotions played out across the man's face until they finally settled on dread. He stalked forward towards Crowley and pushed the smaller man against the wall with his fists clenched in the expensive suit lapels. “Why is it Crowley? Why the production? What soul is so important that you're taking your lily white ass out personally get it?”

Crowley cocked a brow at the man. “That's three more questions. Ones I think you know the answer to. Are you sure you want to--:

“FUCK YOUR GAMES MONSTER AND ANSWER ME!”

“HANDS OFF,” Crowley growled as he pushed the man away. “Don't forget yourself, Johnny. The rules still apply.” John stumbled away under the force of the shove. The human might have been the bigger man, but Crowley held all the power in their relationship and John would do good to remember that. “I've mentioned the Righteous Man before John. Do you remember?”

John was obviously still angry as he regained his footing and gave the smaller man a slow nod. “You said...in hell..that I wasn't him?”

“Good boy,” Crowley sneered as he straightened his jacket. “Tonight, the actual Righteous Man goes to Hell. You're not him, but he was one of yours. It's not everyday that one retrieves a Winchester's soul. I _do_ seem to get to do it a bit more often than most.”

John was on him again, this time going so far to slam Crowley against the wall. The demon let him-- he'd take it out of the man's flesh later. Besides, he didn't have the time to discipline the wayward soul at the moment. He was on a tight time frame.

“WHICH ONE?” The human was breathing in quick gasps that may have been dangerous to him were he actually alive and a flush was raising high on his cheeks. “You leave my fucking boys alone, monster! You take me back down there and let the fuckers have me! I don't even care if Alistair rips me to shreds every goddamn second, long as my boys are left out of it!”

When Crowley spoke again his words were low and deliberate in a cadence the demon so rarely used and generally only when speaking of Heaven. “Take this as truth, John. I have never lied to you before. There is no other way. Your family is more important than you know and getting here, to this very moment, is the result of millions of years of planning and not just by myself. I'd ask you to trust me, but I know you won't. Dean Winchester will die tonight.”

John was silent and wide-eyed as he stared down into Crowley's eyes. The change of demeanor threw the man for just that moment, until the demon looked over his shoulder to the clock again and the spell was broken. Crowley smiled almost fondly at the human. “Besides. You know me darling. I have one rule. You make a deal and you keep it. Your boy, he made a deal and now it's time for him to pay up. There's no stopping it.”

A long moment of silence passed then John swallowed thickly and grunted as if Crowley had hit him. The demon could practically see the workings of the human's mind without even trying. Another harsh breath then swallow and the man deflated, his weight slumping forward against Crowley more than actively trying to keep the demon pinned. “Have I got anything left to give to make this not happen, Crowley? The soul you currently own? My future ties with anyone and anything? Loyalty? Complete devotion and the promise to never defy you again?”

Crowley couldn't help but snort at the last one. Almost gently he pushed the human away again, though John still stumbled. “Even now..with the yellow-eyed bastard dead, why can't my boys have peace?” The man seemed to stagger under the weight of his own statement. “Dean. Why would he? He's doing it to save Sammy, isn't he. He DID it to save Sammy. What the hell happened to Sam to make Dean promise his soul to the demons, Crowley? WHAT HAPPENED!”

The anger was back full force, though this time Crowley sidestepped when John charged him again. The human hit the wall then slid down it, the very picture of misery. “I can't let him go through what I did. Please..”

Crowley shook his head and took another step backwards from the man. He didn't like the emotion he was feeling at the sight of the wrecked human. When had he started to feel actual affection for his pet? His face scrunched up in anger and rebellion at the thought of even having a softer emotion, as he pointed a finger at the mourning man.

“There's nothing to be done John and I do NOT HAVE THE TIME FOR THIS. Your eldest traded his soul for his brother's life. Your youngest will live on because of his sacrifice. Like father, like son. You trained him well, John. A proper martyr. And because you trained him so well, he's going to save the bloody world.”

John's eyes were on him again, though they were no less anguished. Crowley gave him a long look then turned away. If he kept on with his he was going to be late and he didn't want to have to explain any part of why to Lilith.

“Hate me you if you must John, you've hated me before. I'll survive it. But you. You of all people should understand what it is to sacrifice something for a cause greater than yourself. Just how much did you sacrifice for your little revenge crusade? How much did you force your children to sacrifice in return?”

The human looked about ready to charge again, but Crowley didn't let him, throwing out an arm with channeled grace to pin the man where he was until the demon was gone. Instead of addressing John again, Crowley turned to his more loyal pet, who hadn't moved from his spot in front of the fireplace the entire argument. Someone save him from sulking pets! “And you. You're not to let him out of your sight until I return. Should anyone other than myself try to enter the home, kill them. No exceptions.”

Growley barked sharply, accepting the command, and Crowley left; John still slumped against the wall.

 

….

 

Crowley returned in the early hours of the morning to find the parlor in ruins. He could still sense John in the house so it was less likely that the mess came from a struggle than it did from just plain anger. It took a mere wave of a hand to set to rights before the demon slowly made his way up the stairs. The destruction hadn't stopped in the parlor, as the door to John's room was absolutely shredded. A closer inspection of the damage marked Growley's claws as the likely suspect. John must have tried to lock the dog out.

Despite the human's efforts, the massive hellhound was curled in his usual spot on the bottom half of John's bed and looked up at his master as Crowley stepped through the broken entryway. He held a finger to his lips to keep the dog silent and stepped closer to the bed. It was obvious even in sleep that the man was still in pain. The shine of tear tracks along his cheeks were telling. He'd likely broken down fully the moment Crowley was out of sight. The demon would let him sleep for now. There had been one thing that John was right about during their conversation earlier. It was time to stop playing games, and Crowley was going to do just that. Well, as much as he could. He wasn't perfect.

The demon settled into the plush chair that sat near the head of John's bed and waited. It wouldn't be long before the human woke, no matter how emotionally distraught he'd been the night before.

Sure enough, just as sunlight was filtering through the curtains, John groaned and stirred. His eyes blinked open then went wide when they caught sight of the demon sitting casually next to the bed. The collar that Crowley insisted John wear jingled as the man shot upwards but found himself unable to actually move from the bed.

Crowley watched him for a moment. “Stay where you are,” he ordered even though he'd already pinned the man in place. The hangings on John's bed mostly concealed him from the man's sight and Crowley took advantage of that fact. “Before you say a bloody word, it's done. There's no undoing it, so don't even bother trying.” He heard John snarl in answer but ignored it in favor of pressing on. “You asked several questions last night that I didn't have the time to answer, nor receive payment for, but we'll get to that later.”

“I don't want to hear a damn thing you have to say!” John insisted, though Crowley ignored that too. Eventually the man would get the point and shut the hell up.

“Oh trust me, you want to hear this. Now, settle down darling, because it's a great, long fucking story, and I'm not telling it again.” Crowley wished he'd thought to bring the bottle of Craig up with him, because he hadn't been lng when he said the story was long.

 

“On the forty-second--or something like that, I don't even bloody remember myself--day God called two of his angels who really had better things to do with their time like basket weaving, and he said unto the two poor bastards, 'Samael, Raziel, come forward. I have a task for you.'”

 

  **End Arc One**

 

 

****

 


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